How could they do that?
How could you leave your kids anywhere near that shit? Filthy cowards.
Goddammit.
I slam my fists into the cubicle wall. The plastic shower stall rattles under the weight of my anger and the desperate need to rid myself of this feeling of utter hopelessness.
“Urgh! Fuck.”
“London, open up, come on.”
I stumble out of the spray and hit the wall, sliding down until my ass meets the shower floor.
My head drops to my hands as I scream through a sound that tugs at my very soul. Heat, snot, and sobs consume my face as choppy breaths that singe my chest barely register.
“Go away, Davey.”
“You sure?”
“Leave me alone!”
Flashes of my useless waste of space of a father and his seedy bad habits filter through the cracks the anger doesn’t fill.
That could have been me.
That could have been Mama.
He was—no, probably still is the same lowlife that thinks it’s perfectly acceptable to endanger your family. To neglect and inflict pain on the very people you’re supposed to love.
I scramble to my feet and pace the tight circle of the shower.
Into the water, out of the water.
Back into the heat as a fresh onslaught of tears swells and spills over.
A knock rattles the stall door.
“London, it’s Heidi. Open up, babe.”
Babe.Fuck, they all think I’ve lost it.
I still, my chin wobbling as my hands cramp to claws at my sides.
“Go. Away,” I gasp in ragged, staccato movements.
“Let me check you’re okay, then I’ll get out of your space.”
I don’t answer. I can’t.
“Out, all of you.” Miles’s voice echoes through the bathroom.
No . . .
“Sir,” Davey starts.
“Now, Davies.”
The door closes after footsteps fade. I turn off the water and attempt to dry off. Sliding my underwear on, I stand inches fromthe cubicle door. Lost to indecision between wanting to sink into Miles and the selfishness that will haunt me if I do.
