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“For his sake, I hope you ended it.”
“Who knows . . .”
She lets the thought fester in my head, knowing exactly what to say to drive me insane. Whatever she sees on my face has her frowning and waving me off. She stares at her phone, flinching and every muscle in her body stiffens.
“What is it?”
“Nothing.”
I guess we’re doing this the hard way then. I snatch the phone from her hand, and she fights me for it, but I win, and I see the missed calls from her father.
“Haven’t you heard of personal space?”
“You’re mine.”
“Excuse me?”
Chiara watches me, indignation clear in her rounded eyes. I turn to her, and she shifts in her seat at my serious stance.
“What are you afraid of?”
Her head drops, and she plays with her fingers.
“We’ll stay here until you give me an answer.”
“Fine by me.”
Always the stubborn one, but I can be even more stubborn. When I step outside the car and walk toward the forest, she climbs out and shouts, hands on her hips, “Asshole, you have to drive me back.”
“What did you say?”
She stomps her feet on the ground, crossing her arms across her chest. I turn around and keep walking.
“You’re a psycho.”
I cup my ear, pretending not to hear her.
She raises her hands in the air. “I’m afraid of my father, okay?”
It’s not only fear I detect in her voice, but dejection. I walk back and prop my back against my car.
“Why are you afraid of him?”
She purses her lips, and I lean into her. “We can do this all day and all night long.”
“You’re insufferable.”
“Go on.”
“I don’t know how he’ll punish me this time. Happy?”
“How does he usually punish you?”
Her spine stiffens, and she bites the inside of her cheek.
“Locks me in my room, takes my phone away, keeps my food away, slaps me.”
Anger boils my blood, and I curl and uncurl my hands in a failed attempt to calm myself. “When was the last time he did this?”
