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"Yes."
In the next second, his shadow looms over me and I have excruciating pain in my side. He hits me directly in the kidneys, and I can't do anything besides stand straight and let him fucking kill me. Because the moment I crumble, I'll be useless to him and the entire business I'm working for.
"You're a fucking disgrace to this family. That doesn't surprise me, though. You've always been a disappointment. I should have had your mother swallow you when I had the fucking chance." He does one more punch to my side, the rings he's wearing digging into my skin with each jab.
I go to the dark place inside of me where I know my father can't get me. I hear nothing. I see nothing.
I don't even exist.
When I come to, I'm alone in my room. Thank fuck. My dad knows that when I go to that place, I don't come out for anyone. He tried to beat me for hours one time. No one is breaking through when I go to that place, not even Randall Shaw.
The pain in my side is barely tolerable, but enough so that I can hobble over to my bed and lay down.
I lean into my end table and grab my bowl and lighter. I light it up, take a hit and nearly fall into pieces as I cough through the pain.
I so badly want to go out into the kitchen and grab the liquor from the kitchen. Mixing them two together will give me the best high and I won’t feel a damn thing. But I don't want to run into my dad again. I also don't want to run into my mom, but it's not like she'd do anything. I don't even know if she stayed here last night. Maybe she was in her room the entire time, coked out to hell as she laid in bed and listened to me fuck the neighbor.
She's as worthless as a broken shoelace.
I could go to school, but then I risk running into Cara. That, and I'm not sure how well I could walk without wincing. My fucking back hurts.
Doesn't matter. It's just another day.
Instead, I'll lie here and drown out my life with music, and fade into the shadows. Just like I'm good at. Where I don't have to do anything. Where I don't have to speak.
Where I don't have to exist.
3
Cara
Now
Ican’t believe I’mdoing this.
Walking down the street, I near the bar where I know my mom stays. In no way do I want to confront her, but for the first time in my life,I really need my mom.The last time I walked past this bar was one of the worst days of my life.
I lay my hand over my stomach. I’m not sure if I want to protect my unborn child or stop the rolling of my stomach.
Yes, I’m pregnant.
I’ve been holed up in my house for the past four weeks. I have to be somewhere around three months pregnant by now. I don’t know, because I haven’t gone to the doctor yet. I don’t know what my plan is, but ever since I told Jackson about the baby, I’ve been pretending it doesn’t exist. Jackson’s reaction to the pregnancy made me revert to my pre-Logan self. I don’t want to leave my house. I don’t want to talk toanyone.
Just thinking about the day, I found out I was pregnant makes me start to cry. But lately,everythingseems to make me cry.
* * *
"Shit."I roll over in bed and shove the pillow over my head, trying to block out the sun from glaring in my eyes. When I roll over, my stomach rolls with it. Suddenly, I realize how nauseated I am.
"Oh, no." I fly off the bed and into the bathroom, barely making it before retching the liquor and the little food I had in my stomach the night before into the toilet. Once I'm finished and my stomach is completely emptied, I curl up into the fetal position in front of the toilet and cry. I hate getting sick. I hate being nauseous.
I'm all alone in this house and all I want is to be held when I don’t feel good. There's just no one to hold me. No one evenwantsto hold me.
My life is so different now. I don’t know what happened, but six months ago I was living my best life. Now I feel lost and alone. I have Rose, but she’s so wrapped up in Easton and I hate feeling like the third wheel.
Then there’s Jackson.
Jackson, Jackson, Jackson.
