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You know what I can’t get over most of all, though? That the shame in my dad’s eyesprecededhim actually hitting me.
It started as a silly little bickering over my curfew. Yes, I still live at home—but I’m twenty years old now, and a midnight curfew for a grown-ass woman is almost a slap in the face in its own right.
If only Mom's cancer were contagious. Then all of us could be trapped at home, too, miserable just like you are.
It felt disturbingly good to say that to Dad when he tried to tell me where I could and couldn’t go. Those words have been bubbling up in my gut for almost two years of his overprotectiveness and paranoia.
But it’s more than that, too.
Dad isafraid.
And he’s been afraid sincebeforeMom got sick.
I first noticed it when I caught sight of him making dinner in the kitchen one night and realized with a jolt just how skinny he’d gotten. He was never a big man, but the beer-gut dad bod I’d always known was gone. In its place was a skittish man, badly shaven, paler than he had any right to be.
His eyes never stopped moving, either.
Like he was waiting for a shadow to lunge out and strangle him.
Why would that be? I have no earthly idea. Archie Theron is a travel agent, for crying out loud. Not exactly a high-stakes profession. He’s a father of two, married to his high school sweetheart, living in the quiet, tree-lined suburbs of Chicago. There are no shadows out here who like to strangle people. The obscene property taxes pay for some very nice streetlights, actually, so there aren’t many shadows at all.
But you wouldn’t know that by looking at Archie Theron. He was the kind of scared that makes you scared, too, just by happening to glance in his direction.
I should’ve asked then what was frightening him. But the next day, we found out about Mom, and everything else dimmed in importance.
I wonder what he would’ve said if I did.
I snap myself out of my reverie and look up to realize the sun has sunk behind the trees. The park has emptied, too, and my legs are starting to quiver from exhaustion. My tears dried up at some point while I was thinking, though I’m not quite sure when.
With a sigh, I turn toward home.
Home.What a concept. It’s supposed to feel safe, isn’t it? You should never be scared to go home. You should never be afraid of what monsters are waiting for you in the corners of your room. You should never hate the people who also call it home.
But all those things are true right now.
Still, where else would I go? I’ve got nowhere else. Nooneelse. I know better than anyone what happens when you dare to believe in a future or in other people, and as foolish as I may be sometimes, I’m not about to make that same mistake twice. I did that once, and it almost cost me my sister. I won’t do it again.
I take an easy pace around the final bend. Home is a few blocks away now. My thoughts have quieted, though I wouldn’t say they’ve exactly sorted themselves out. More like they’ve just agreed to take a breather. They’re as exhausted as I am.
I can see the Theron household way down at the end of the road. The rose bushes under the windowsills have gotten a little raggedy without Mom tending to them every day, and the yard has begun to outgrow its boundaries. But it’s still cute. Still peaceful.
For now.
I’m crossing the street when several things happen at once.
First, a blinding light appears in the corner of my vision.
Second, I look up to realize that a car is barreling towards me, and it isn’t stopping anytime soon.
Third, I do the only thing I can do: close my eyes and pray that death doesn’t hurt as bad as life has lately.
2
TAYLOR
I only open my eyes again when I realize I’m not dead.
The car I thought was being driven by the Grim Reaper comes to a screeching halt about two inches away from my bare legs. I can feel its exhaust on my skin like it’s a wild animal breathing on me.
