Page 162 of Breathe Like Hell

I’d already been in the bathroom too long. I needed to go back out there.

After a few deep breaths and with my heart in my throat, I managed to force myself out of the bathroom and towards where my mother was beginning to put food on the table. I helped her move dishes and fill up cups of water, then eventually sat down with everyone else.

Conversation had already begun at the table.

It was bizarre, the way my father was acting around Anthony’s fiancee. He was trying to be sociable. Friendly, or something. I’d never once in my life see him try and make conversation with anyone the way he was with Samantha right now.

It made me wonder about a lot of things.

Anthony used to hate our father just as much as I did, but maybe something had changed in his adulthood.

My father noticed me watching the exchange, pinning me with a glare, but I didn’t back down.

I stared at him, really looking at him in the eyes for once in my life, and understood that he didn’t know a single thing about me. Gun to his head, he wouldn’t know my age, my birthday, my major, what college I went to, probably anything about my life.

I didn’t know anything about him, either.

All I knew was that he hated me.

I looked away too late.

“You got something to say?” he snapped.

“No, sir.”

“That’s fuckin’ right. Staring is impolite. You should know that.”

My eyes stayed fixed on my lap. I hadn’t missed this at all. The fucking constant eggshells I walked on here. The endless task of trying to stay out of his field of vision to avoid his anger. The tension always in my shoulders from being hiked up to my ears every time he shattered a glass or shouted loud or slammed his hand on the counter.

Without thinking, I looked over at Anthony. My shield.

I guessed I wanted to see if he was angry or not. If he cared about me being scolded in front of him anymore. If he still wanted to protect me at all.

He wasn’t paying any attention to me, though. Just sawing his knife through the meat without a care in the world. I’d been entirely discarded by him, in every way.

He’d moved on, in the exact way I’d never be able to.

The rest of the meal was as torturous as I’d expected, but I began to dissociate halfway through, staring at nothing and listening to nothing. Only moving the fork from my plate to my mouth in a loop. It was enough to keep myself from having a full-on meltdown like I had last night.

People were talking, sharing things, and I didn’t give a single fuck about any of them.

Samantha showed everyone a picture of some wedding bullshit on her phone, but my eyes were too glazed over to notice exactly what it was. Something white and tacky and stupid. Decorations.

Do you know what he did to me?

Dinner ended and Samantha got a pie out of the fridge, which she’d apparently brought here. I hadn’t noticed when she first arrived. I also hated pumpkin pie, but I had a feeling my father would be pissed if I didn’t have a slice. He didn’t want me being rude to his new favorite daughter in law.

I needed to know what happened between him and Anthony to cause my brother to stop hating him. Had he completely forgotten about the literal horror movie that was this trailer when we were growing up?

The pie was cold and gross to me, but everyone else appeared to love it.

Great.

I didn’t want to hate Samantha, though. She hadn’t done anything wrong. She probably had no clue what sort of man Anthony really was—maybe it was my duty to warn her. But I knew I’d never actually say anything to anyone. It was too late now.

That was, if she actually believed me.

It was more likely that Anthony would call me a liar, and everyone would accept that as the truth.