But I’m glad I can hold it back, thanks to Pat’s annoying sounding sigh. I hate living here.
“Lonnie.” Pat’s tone is only tired. “Get rid of that.”
“Oh, gracious.” Mom’s shrill cry breaks in the air. “What is that?” Her hazel eyes are wide with horror.
“It’s a joke,” Lonnie says, picking up the mouse like it's a dollar store toy. With his back to my parents, he takes a moment and glares.
It’s a prelude. A warning to the twisted that’s inevitable and bound to happen.
I lower my brows, hoping to send off some kind of warning shot. “Don’t look at me like that.”
“Like what?” Lonnie smirks.
“You know exactly what I’m—”
“Enough, out both of you,” Pat cuts in, “but especially Vivian. Lonnie was doing what I told him, so don’t make trouble by provoking him. Can you not get along with him at all?”
The twisted smirk grows across Lonnie’s thin lip, and a knowledge crawls up my spine like a ticking time bomb.
Instantly, I know.
I can’t stay here—risk it and get raped.The worst part? Neither of them will believe any of it. An ache weaves in and out of my ribs as I look at my mom.
She’s not looking at me. Of course, she isn’t. That tender gaze of hers is fixed on Lonnie as he spins on his heel and strides for the exit.
A light frown mars her usually flawless features, and she pats his arm. “I'm calling Dr. Perkins in the morning. He's right. You need a higher dose of lithium. Throwing dead mice on someone's bed isn't nice, sweetheart. People will talk about that all over town.”
“Yeah, okay.” Lonnie shrugs and casually strolls out of my room, my mom following after.
A sting vibrates in my chest, but it's Pat who delivers the final slice, tearing me in two. “Finish your homework, and while you’re at it, put on some clothes.” His top lip pulls up like he’s disgusted. “You look like a damn hooker.”
He slams the door shut, and I hear him descend the stairs.
Hooker.The final blow to all my hopes. Hope of being heard, seen, validated—loved. Being anything to anyone in this house.
I understand perfectly now.
It’s never going to happen. Lonnie and Pat replaced the room my mom held for me. That’s her family now, and Pat will do everything he can to keep me out. And the longer I stay here, my mom’s conceited need to wear a mask and display perfection buries how shattered our home is.
Buries me.
Hot tears lash at my sight. They blur my surroundings right before sliding down my cheeks and to my throat.
It takes only a brief sob for something else to crack in my mind. This realization that if my parents can bury me, then I can bury Pat’s meaningless words. I can slam them deeper into my soul and allow them to fuel me, protect me from ever getting hurt again.
Fuck this. Fuck him.
“Hooker, my ass,” I grumble, shoving to my feet, the anger already providing me with a burst of energy. Last I checked, I was in my room alone, not parading myself in the streets.
Pat Grey is a jackass, and me being forced to take his name was stupid. I was Vivian Scott before Dad died. Still am, deep down in my heart. I only say Grey out of forced habit.
The ache dissipates as I push fat tears away and dig under my bed.
After pulling out a pink overnight bag, my chest is already lighter. I’m not safe here, but I do know of one place I am.
Wilson Tinley, the guy Lonnie said had a crush on me a few years ago. He’s my support. My sunshine through the storm cloud. A smile spans across my face as I toss some clothes into my luggage.
I didn't believe Lonnie a few years back, but it turns out he was right.
Will liked me, and he’s sweet, handsome, and kind. Perfect, actually.
Who couldn’t fall for someone who competes with my JTT and Nysnc posters? We've been going out for a year. Also, his parents adore me. His mom’s sympathetic about the circumstances here too. She doesn’t treat me like a problem child, or sigh when I say I’ve been hurt.
She listens and gives me the respect of another human being.
She’s the mom I lost. I’ve cried on her shoulder more nights than I can count.
I'll crash in their guest room downstairs—maybe indefinitely this time. It’s an invitation that’s already been extended by Will’s parents; I simply haven’t taken them up on it yet. That changes today.
Once the necessities are packed, and I'm dressed, I open my window, hoist myself over the ledge, and descend the tree.
When my black high-top sneakers hit the grass, and breathing is easier, I take a moment to enjoy the freedom. The warming sunshine splays over my skin while a gentle breeze plays through the strands of my dark blonde hair. Paradise. Watching the rolling puffy clouds above, I change my course. I'll still be going to Will's, but first, I'm going to my grandpa’s.
My dad’s dad.
The person my mom forced me to stop visiting after she married Pat because every time I came home, I was too disagreeable.
She doesn’t like him since my grandpa was verbal about him not liking Pat or Lonnie. Mom tried to keep me away but failed.
He’s a close friend of Will’s family, and we see each other every weekend when Grandpa comes over their house for Sunday night dinner—something my mom, Pat, and Lonnie are clueless about.
I'm thankful for him because he cares about me. More than that, he flat-out loves me.
I hike my bag up on my shoulder and hurry down the sidewalk, not bothering to look at the white-sided house behind me.
A white house that would be black if you could see its true aura.
Looks are deceiving sometimes.