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One of my father’s slaps had actually bruised my face.
“Just great.”
I sighed as I splashed some water on it. I ran some through my hair, watching as it glistened. The bruise was faint. But with the pale skin I’d inherited from the fucker himself, it was easy to see. I licked my lips and dried off my hands, then ran the paper towel over my face. I winced at the pain. My neck felt stiff. My cheeks were on fire. My ears were ringing from how loud my father had been yelling at me.
Then my stomach kicked in again.
“I need some food.”
I tossed the paper towel away and slammed out of the bathroom. I took a seat in a corner booth, where the biggest waiter in the diner came up to me. I peeked over at the girls, watching as they cowered away. Fucking figured. I’d gone from the man every woman wanted to flock around, to the man people feared. And all because of some fucking bruise that wasn’t even my damn fault.
Note to self, girlfriends and bruises from my father ruin my mojo.
The waiter sighed. “Can I get you anything?”
I leaned back. “Got anything on special?”
“Ten percent off our chicken and waffles.”
I wrinkled my nose. “Odd combination.”
“Drench it all in syrup and it’s fantastic.”
I sighed. “Sure. That’s fine, then. An order of that, a slice of German chocolate cake, and coffee.”
“Cream and sugar?”
“Yep.”
He paused. “It might not be my place, but you need to talk to someone?”
I snickered. “Nah, I’m good.”
“You sure? That’s a pretty decent shiner.”
“It only looks bad because I’m pale as fuck in the middle of California.”
And even though the two of us shared a small moment of laughter, I still saw the nervousness in his eyes.
“That’s all. Thanks,” I said.
He left to place my order while everyone continued to stare at me. The freak in the leather jacket with the blackened cheek.
13
Raelynn
I stared off into the darkness as I sat on the park bench. A ratty park, on the outskirts of the suburb where our small little area was stashed. The metal monkey bars were rusted through. Half of the swings were broken. The plastic of the slides had been cracked for years. Even the sandbox had been infested with bugs and fleas and all sorts of things, driving the families around here to abandon it. But I found solace in this place. In the crispy grass that had been fried by the sun. In the dead trees that surrounded this little patch of land. I sipped my green tea, reveling in its taste. Just another thing that separated me from the coffee-guzzling masses of those that surrounded me.
I sighed as I dwelled in my moment of turmoil.
I’d never been good at brushing things off. I had to pick through it. Tear it apart before piecing it back together. If I didn’t, I’d be stuck in a never-ending cycle of untapped emotion and swirling memories. I had to delve deep into it so I understood how to talk about it intelligently. Or, at the very least, build a fucking bridge and get over it.
I needed to pick through the chaos of my home. The insanity of my mother. The decrepit state of her good-for-nothing boyfriend. I closed my eyes, listening as her shrieks filled my mind. Sipping on my tea as the sound of D.J.’s hand cracking against her jaw made me wince. Grimace.
Wish I was anywhere other than here.
“Deep breaths,” I whispered to myself.
