Page 2 of Burning For You

She yanked a pan from the cabinet and dropped it onto the stove harder than necessary. Her mother didn’t react. She never did.

Not even when she followed Skye into the kitchen, dug out her cigarettes, and lit one to watch.

“What do you want with it?” she asked, wrestling with the frozen box of meat to get it open.

“Fries,” her mother snorted. “Isn’t that what we always do?”

She cranked the oven, grabbed a bag of frozen fries, dumped them onto a pan, and shoved it inside before the oven had even finished preheating.

Next came the vegetables. She held up a bag of peas and carrots. “Is this okay, or do you want something else?”

“Lose the attitude,” her mother said, taking a long drag. “You’re not the one who was out until two in the morning and then had to get up for an appointment this morning.”

“Doesn’t the bar close at midnight?” she asked quietly, keeping her sarcasm at bay... barely. “Or did they change the hours?”

“Don’t be a wiseass. You know I stay for a few drinks.”

“Then that’s on you,” Skye muttered.

“What was that?”

Her mother lunged forward, fingers digging into Skye’s arm, yanking her around. The bag of vegetables flew from her hand and skidded across the floor.

“Nothing.”

“That’s right,” her mother snarled, her breath hot with smoke and perfume as she leaned in. “Nothing. Keep your mouth shut.”

“Jenny, what now?” her father asked, stomping in and grabbing a beer.

“Your daughter’s getting lippy again.” Her mother’s hand released to catch the can he tossed her. Couldn’t risk dropping her Marlboro. “Sean’s rubbing off on her.”

“At least she’s not screaming in your face,” her father said. “That boy needs to get his shit together.”

Skye turned back to the stove while they complained about their kids like she wasn’t standing right there.

Like she wasn’t a human and didn’t have feelings.

Not that they’d give two shits about what she thought, cared, or felt.

She learned early how to tune them out.

It was the only way to survive.

She set the table. She served the food. She ate in silence. Dinner came and went like that...like most nights.

After cleaning up, she grabbed her books and headed upstairs, ignoring her mother’s slurred voice calling after her. “Stop being a little bitch.”

She shut her door and finished her homework.

By ten, she was in bed, her phone charging, her TV off. Sean’s television blared through the wall like always. She fell asleep anyway.

She always did.

But the coughing woke her. She was coughing.

The air felt thick. Her eyes burned.

She blinked them a few times. Fog?