Something about the way he looks at me when he says that makes my heart swell. It’s like he actually cares about me, and I don’t know what I think about that.
We make our way through the front door and immediately spot my mother vacuuming her rug in the living room. I feel like a weight has been lifted off my shoulders seeing her alive and well. “Mom?” I say from the door, and she gasps, almost dropping her vacuum.
Her face lights up when she sees me. “Oh, hunny. You’re okay!” She puts her vacuum down and pulls me into her arms.
“I am fine. I was worried about you after your voicemail.”
She pulls back so she can look at my face. “Yeah, Craig did a number on the house,” she says with an awkward chuckle.
I look around the room to survey the damage. There are multiple holes in the wall and down the hallway. Her TV has been pushed over and smashed. Multiple pieces of furniture have been turned over on its side and there looks to be powder of some sort all over the carpet.
I wince at the sight of her bedroom door. My house must look similar if he came all the way here and tore up with one out of anger. What am I going home to? Is there anything left for me to go home to, to begin with?
Terror rises in the back of my throat as the thought of Craig standing behind our screen door, waiting for me. Or worse…watching me here and now, like a bait house. He used my mother for bait!
I quickly walk toward the front door and shut it, closing all of the curtains as well. If my mother’s house looks like this, I can only imagine what my house looks like.My house? I don’t even have a house anymore. I have nowhere to go. Nowhere to live. I have to make this right.
“Mom, this is not a laughing matter!” I bite the inside of my cheek. She could have been hurt! Craig could have fucking hurt her!
She waves her hand at me. “Oh, please. Don’t tell an old woman what she can and can not laugh at. This is all just material things. They can be replaced.”
I shake my head. “I’m so sorry I didn’t contact you sooner and tell you what was happening. Then maybe—”
“Sweetie, stop that nonsense right now. I don’t blame you. This was all Craig and only him.” She looks over at Hunter, her expression wary, as if she’s sizing him up, assessing whether he’s a threat or an ally. Then she turns back to me, raising a brow. “Does this mean you have left him for good this time?” She raises her brow.
Her words hit me harder than I expect
She has never liked Craig, even from the start. She always told me he was a narcissistic little shit, but I never believed her. Not until I had proof—not just in bruises and broken things, but in the way my bodyflincheswhen someone moves too fast, in the way my mind isstilltrying to justify going back. But even now, even with all of that, the idea of truly leaving terrifies me.
Because if I leave, then what?
I’ve spent years making myself small enough to fit into Craig’s world. I’ve learned how to speak softly when he’s angry, how to walk lightly so the floorboards don’t creak, how to disappear when I need to. If I’m nothisanymore, then who am I?
A weight settles in my chest, suffocating.
I look over at Hunter, who is standing strikingly still with a grim look on his face. And even though his look brings me pause, I turn back to my mother and say, “I think I have.” The words feel foreign in my mouth, like they belong to someone braver. But as soon as they’re spoken, somethingshiftsinside me.
Relief.
Speaking them out loud is like unlocking a door I didn’t even know was there. A door to something I’ve never had before—freedom.
The front door swings open with a creak, and Hunter walks outside. Panic flares inside me.
Where is he going? Why is he leaving?
I go to follow after him, by the time I step onto the porch, he is already rounding my car and swinging his leg over his motorcycle.
I stop short, the cold air biting my skin as the engine roars to life.
The sound vibrates through me, and suddenly, I feelso stupidfor expecting anything else.
Ofcoursehe’s leaving.
Why would he stay?
I wasneverhis problem to begin with.
My mother walks up behind me and places her hand on my shoulder. “Where is your friend going?”
