Page 39 of Silent Prey

Distracted by these thoughts, she didn’t notice the figure stumbling into the street until it was almost too late. She slammed on her brakes, coming to a stop mere inches from the hooded figure, who gave her the finger in gratitude.

Sheila rolled down her window to shout at the pedestrian to watch where they were going…but then it struck her that she knew who this person was. None other than Star herself, dressed in patched jeans and a baggy hoodie, her head lowered as she shuffled to the other side of the street.

Puzzled, Sheila got out of the car, leaving it in the middle of the road, and hurried after Star.

“Star!” she called. “Hey, wait a minute, would you?”

Star reached the sidewalk and stopped, turning around slowly. Her face was partially hidden by the shadows of the hood. “What do you want?” she asked coldly.

The tone more than the question caught Sheila by surprise. “I just wanted to…is everything alright?”

“Perfectly,” Star said with undisguised sarcasm. “Everything’s great.”

Sheila frowned, taking in the tense line of Star's shoulders, the guarded look in her eyes. "You don't have to lie to me," she said. "What happened, Star?"

"I told you, I'm fine," Star said. “Just leave me alone.” She turned her back and started walking again.

"You're not fine," Sheila said, following the teenage girl. "You're wandering around in the middle of the night, looking like you're about to collapse."

“You’re not my mom.”

“That doesn’t mean I don’t care. I don’t know you very well, but—”

"But what?" Star said, spinning around. "But you can see how pitiful I am, and you feel like you need to save me? Is that it?"

“No, that’s not—”

“Where were you earlier when I needed you? You and your dad—you both say I can depend on you, but when I actually need you, you’re nowhere to be found. So don’t pretend like you care now."

Sheila felt a pang of guilt. She recalled how, earlier, she had promised to call Star, but she’d never gone through with it.

"Listen, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to—"

"Forget it," Star interrupted, her voice shaky as she tried to maintain her composure. "I'm used to fending for myself."

Not knowing what else to do, Sheila reached out and gently placed a hand on Star's arm. Star, however, immediately shook her off.

“Don’t touch me!” she said. “You’re just a liar.” She stepped back, entering the glow of an overhead streetlamp, and Sheila got a good look at her face—and the livid bruises there. Her left eye swollen, and a nasty cut stretched from her cheekbone to her lips. Star looked away, but not before Sheila caught the glint of unshed tears in her eyes.

“Star!” Sheila gasped, her hand instinctively reaching up to touch the young girl's face. Star didn’t move this time, allowing Sheila’s touch, her expression one of resigned defeat. “Who did this to you?”

Star shrugged noncommittally, avoiding Sheila's gaze. “Doesn't matter.”

“It does matter,” Sheila said sternly. “Did you call the police?”

A derisive laugh escaped Star. “Yeah, like they'd do anything.”

“Who did this to you?” Sheila asked again. “A boyfriend? Someone at school?”

Star stared at her, saying nothing.

“Someone at home?” Sheila asked. Then she recalled something her dad had said about Star’s father’s habit of taking out his problems on his teenage daughter. “Was it your father?”

Star snorted and looked away. “He’s not my father, not if I have any say in the matter.”

“So it was him,” Sheila said, clenching her jaw hard.

A horn honked as a driver swerved around Sheila’s car. Sheila watched the driver, then turned her attention back to Star.

---