But the anger flamed out as fast as it had flared, leaving nothing behind but the cold empty space where it had been, and Enya tipped her head back against the wall and stared at the ceiling until the tears blurred her vision and spilled down her cheeks in hot tracks that dripped off her jaw and soaked into the collar of her shirt. She didn't wipe them away. There was no point. She’d learned the hard way that tears never did anything. They didn’t help. They only showed people how much they hurt you.
She heard the creak of the fridge opening, the clink of a bottle, the low hiss of a cap being twisted off, and then silence.
He’s sold my Rain, and he’s drinking beer?
He doesn’t even feel bad about it.
Jerk.
Enya pushed to her feet, her legs shaking hard enough that she had to brace one hand against the wall, and she crossed the room on unsteady steps. Her door was still open; she should close it, lock it, crawl into bed, pull the covers over her head, and disappear into the darkness where nothing could touch her. But instead she found herself stepping into the hall, her bare feet silent on the worn hardwood, and moving toward the stairs like something outside herself was pulling the strings.
The kitchen was at the end of the hall, past the living room with its sagging couch and the TV that was always on and the pictures on the mantle that showed a family that didn’t exist anymore, and when she reached the doorway, she stopped, her hand curling around the frame hard enough that her knuckles went white.
Her dad stood at the counter with his back to her, one hand wrapped around a beer bottle.
Say something.
Ask him why.
Make him look at you.
But the words stuck in her throat, thick and choking, and all she could do was stand there and stare at the back of his head and wonder when he’d stopped being the man who used to swing her up onto Rain’s back and tell her she could do anything she set her mind to.
He tipped the bottle back and drained half of it in one long swallow, and when he set it down on the counter, the sound was loud enough to make her flinch.
“I know you’re standing there, Enya.” The tone of his voice told her that he didn’t want to have this conversation any more than she did. “You got something to say, say it.”
Her mouth opened, but nothing came out, just a thin breath that barely made it past her lips, and she hated herself for it. She hated who she’d become, someone who couldn’t even speak up for the things that mattered.
He turned around, and the look on his face was everything she didn’t want to see—exhaustion, frustration, and something that might have been regret if she squinted hard enough. His eyes swept over her with the same assessing gaze he’d use on a horse that wasn’t eating right. “He's not gone for good.” He set the bottle down and crossed his arms over his chest, his jaw working like he was chewing on words he didn’t want to spit out. “The Salieris are taking him for a while, that’s all, just until we get things sorted and you’re feeling better.”
“Sorted? Better?” The words scraped out of her throat, “What does that even mean?”
“It means you're not riding him. Hell, you’re not even looking after him. He’s grieving, you’re grieving, and it’s destroying you both. I won’t watch it anymore.” His voice rose, not quite a shout but close enough that it made her stomach clench. “You want him back, Enya, you get your ass out of that room and start acting like the girl I raised instead of some ghost that floats around this house like you died in fucking Colombia.”
The words hit like a fist to the gut, and she stepped back, her heel catching on the edge of the doorway, and the look on his face shifted into something that might have been regret. But it was too late, the damage was done, the truth hanging in the air between them.
He thought she was a broken, useless burden. Maybe he was right, but didn’t he know she hated herself enough for both of them?
Her dad’s hand came up, fingers pinching the bridge of his nose, and he let out a long breath that sounded like defeat. “I didn't mean it like that.”
“Yes, you did.” Her voice was steady in a way that surprised her. She didn’t recognize the cold, flat, and empty words coming out of her mouth. “You meant every word.” She turned and walked back down the hall, her feet moving on autopilot. She didn't stop until she was in her room with the door closed and the lock turned to shut out the world. Then she sank down onto the bed, pulled her knees to her chest, and tried to remember how to breathe.
Rain is gone.
Daddy thinks I’m worthless.
Rain is gone.
Daddy thinks I’m worthless.
Rain is gone.
Daddy thinks I’m worthless.
By the time she’d mostly pulled herself out of her spiral, it was the middle of the night. Enya found herself sitting in the dark staring at the wall and wondering if this was what the rest of her life was going to feel like—empty, small, and always, always alone.
I can’t stay here.
