Page 41 of Catching My Dreams

“What?”

“I want you and Dad to come home.” She said the words with more confidence the second time.

“Ella, don’t be ridiculous. Your father and I can’t simply drop our careers because you’re a bit lonely. You’re nineteen years old, for heaven’s sake.”

She should have known, should have expected it, but disappointment and hurt made Ella’s chest ache and her eyes burn. “I’m not lonely, Mom,” she forced out. “I’m fucking terrified.”

“Language!”

“I’m in this house alone every night, and I’m fucking scared,” Ella gritted out, her anger making her voice harsh and her tone biting. “Brett is still out there, and I need my parents, so if it isn’t too much to ask, could you take some goddamned time off to be here for me?”

“You need to watch your tone,” came her mom’s cold response.

“And you need to be a better mother.”

Silence stretched out until Ella wondered if the woman had hung up. It wouldn’t have shocked her. It might have been preferable that way, but her mom finally spoke and proved once and for all that she was never meant to be a parent.

“Apologize to me now.”

“I won’t apologize for telling the truth.”

“Have it your way then. Your father will be emptying out your account immediately. If you need money for gas or groceries, call us, and we’ll send you a small amount to cover the costs.”

Ella swallowed. Her parents had always been strict with her whenever they bothered to do any parenting at all, but this was harsh even for them. “You can’t be serious.”

“I’m very serious. That means no weekly nail appointments, no shopping for books or clothes, and no visits to the physiotherapist. If we see any other expenses on the monthly statement besides the basics, we’ll cut you off completely.”

Ella had so many things she wanted to say, wanted to yell, but all that came out was, “I need the physio, Mom. You know I can’t manage without it.” There were only so many painkillers she could take and only so much she could do for her jaw, neck, and shoulder muscles herself before it became unbearable.

“If you want to go to physio, get a job. Or better yet, apologize to me right now.”

Ella opened her mouth, but no sound came out. She couldn’t do it. She couldn’t apologize to someone who was so selfish she didn’t even care that her daughter was terrified to be alone after finding out she was being stalked. She refused to give her the satisfaction.

“All I wanted was for my parents to give a shit,” Ella finally said. “But I guess that’s just too much to ask.”

She hung up, her parting words not making her feel any better. Archie whined, but the sound and his concerned brown eyes did nothing to calm the scorching inferno that was tearing through her mind. She wanted to scream. She wanted to break something. She wanted to punch someone. And since she couldn’t do the last, Ella picked up her pillow, pressed her face into the soft cotton, and emptied her lungs with a guttural scream.

But it wasn’t enough. The anger only built up in her veins, the ugly and bitter emotion infecting her until she was sure she’d never feel anything else—anything good—ever again.

She stood up, threw the door of her closet open, and raced to turn on her bedroom light. Her hands were curled into fists, her nails digging into her palms, but she needed a better outlet.

So, with a choked yell, Ella swiped the items on her dressing table to the floor. Perfume bottles, make-up, and her hairdryer crashed to the floor, but she wasn’t done. The rage swirling inside her wasn’t even close to being satisfied.

She threw her hairbrush into the mirror hanging above the table, barely flinching when her reflection shattered, and shards of glass rained down. She grabbed a photo frame from her bedside table next, hurling it at the wall with a shouted curse.

Ella wrenched her hands through her hair, pulling on the strands and pressing her curled fists into her scalp. Tears burned her eyes, the small pain only adding to her fury. She’d been angry before, but never like this. And she hated it. Hated how out of control she felt and how reckless it made her.

She hadn’t even considered that Brett might have been in her bedroom. She hadn’t even thought to bring the kitchen knife she kept under her pillow with her. She hadn’t even cared that what she was doing would scare Archie.

It was that thought that finally snapped her out of it, at least enough for her to rush to her closet to find the Yorkie tucked into the corner with his tail tucked between his legs. Ella’s tears finally fell then.

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered, gently picking him up and laying him against her chest. She pulled in a shaky breath, but the air felt thin in her lungs.

Her body felt weighted down with a tiredness that no single night of good sleep could cure her of, but Ella knew from experience that she wouldn’t be able to fall asleep so soon after the nightmare she’d had.

She had no desire to leave her bedroom when it was still dark outside, but she also couldn’t leave the shards of glass scattered on her floor. So Ella left Archie in the sanctuary of the closet and very slowly made her way downstairs.

Each creak of the stairs sounded as loud as gunshots in the quiet house. Every groan from the wood beneath her bare feet made her pulse jump until she could feel her heartbeat thudding in her skull.

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