Look. The. Fuck. Away.
But my body betrays me. I’m frozen in place once again, consumed by the madness radiating off of him.
8
Victoria
ONE DAY EARLIER.
My phone buzzes nonstop against the couch cushion next to me, vibrating loud enough to be annoying but not loud enough to make me care in the moment.
I don’t even look down at it. I’m too focused on the season finale ofChainsaw Man, sprawled out across the couch with a half-melted chocolate bar in my hand and crumbs stuck to my shirt like I’ve completely given up on life.
The phone keeps going.
Buzz.
Buzz.
Buzz.
It’s persistent as hell, which means only one thing.
I sigh, dragging a hand down my face, already knowing exactly who it is without even glancing down at the screen.
Mom.
I think about ignoring it, but I know she’ll just keep calling. Then texting. Then calling again. And if I continue to ignore her, she’ll somehow convince herself I’ve been murdered and start blowing up everyone I know.
Including the police.
So I sadly cave in. I lazily lift my iPhone from off of the couch and swipe to answer the FaceTime call. “Hey, Mom.”
The second my face appears, she throws one hand up dramatically. “Victoria Miller, for the love of all that’s good, answer your phone the first time I call.”
I roll my eyes, shifting slightly on the couch. “Mom, I’m an adult. I live on my own. I have a job. I’m-”
She cuts me off immediately, holding her hand up like she’s about to smack the shit out of me through the lens. “Yes, yes. You’re a grown woman, I get it. But you’re still my baby. And when you don’t answer my firstfourcalls, I get anxious.”
Ilet out a small laugh, glancing down at the chocolate smeared across my fingers. “I think you need therapy.”
Her face tightens into an instant scowl. “Not funny, Victoria. And you know how I feel about therapy. That’s where I met your son of a bitch father.”
I groan softly, leaning my head back against the couch. “I know exactly what you’re about to say.”
She keeps going anyway, like she always does. “Your father was a whore who couldn’t keep it in his pants. The only good thing that came from him was you. Otherwise, he’s the reason I swore off men entirely.”
I just let her talk. It’s easier that way.
She moves on eventually from the topic of Dad. Now she’s rambling on about Irene, my step-mom, and how she’s planning some “important family announcement” for tomorrow and wants everyone there.
I have no idea what they’re trying to pull, but I already know it’s not going to be good. Big family gatherings are always awkward as hell.
With every sentence she completes, I just agree and say,“Yes. Yep. Uh-huh.”
Eventually, she winds down, saying she needs to get ready for bed, and the call ends right after a quicklove youis muttered.
My show is paused and the house is silent. I glance at the time on my phone and see that it’s already 1:01AM.
