The pounding continues, shaking the damn door.
Bang. Bang. Bang.
Fucking relentless.
I take the stairs two at a time. If he thinks he can show up here and start spewing his usual bullshit, he’s about to find out exactlyhow done I am with him.
I rip the door open, my glare burning hot. “What the fuck do you want?”
The words are barely out of my mouth before I register the look on his face.
Not just drunk.
Something else.
His eyes are bloodshot. Not just from booze, but from something raw, something hollow. His chest heaves like he ran here, his hands shaking at his sides.
“You didn’t answer your goddamn phone.” His voice is rough, thick with something unfamiliar. “Me, the hospital, we called a hundred fucking times.”
A sick feeling slams into my gut.
No.
My dad sways, runs a trembling hand over his face. “It’s your mother, Ben.” His voice cracks. “She’s gone.”
The words don’t make sense. They hit, but they don’t sink in. They just hover there, weightless, waiting for my brain to catch up.
I shake my head. “What are you talking about?”
“Car accident.” His throat bobs, and for the first time in my life, my father looks small. Broken. “She…she didn’t make it.”
The world tilts.
No.
No, no, no.
Cold washes over me, creeping in like ice beneath my skin.
“You’re lying.” The words are barely a whisper. A plea.
His face twists with something sharp. “You think I’d fucking lie about this?”
I stagger back, my mind scrambling, searching for something, anything, to make this untrue. To undo it.
Then it hits me.
My phone.
I turned it off.
I shut it down so I could be with Lila, so I wouldn’t have to deal with anything outside of her.
I wasn’t there.
I wasn’t fucking there.
A sharp, strangled breath rips through my chest. My hands curl into fists, nails biting into my palms, but I don’t feel it. I don’t feel anything.
