Page 113 of Collided

“The illustrated covers are so pretty,” she gushes as she aligns them over the table.

“I guess,” I murmur, not knowing what else to say.

I don’t find books as enchanting as she does. But I findherenchanting.

“Look at these original covers.” With giddy happiness, she brings the book to my face and forces me to look at it. A month ago, I wouldn’t have thought my life would come to this.

“Old is gold.”

A giggle pulls out of her, and she doesn’t comment on my dry humor.

With each book she picks up, more life descends into her, and I’m standing here, thinking how the fuck did I get myself into this mess?

25

Hope

It’s late in the night when I step inside my house, only to halt when I see Dad pausing in the hallway on his way from the kitchen. He pins me with a hard stare as he takes me in from head to toe.

An unwelcoming chill hits me and freezes every organ in my body.

“What are you wearing?” he asks, looking deep into my eyes.

“Clothes.” I don’t think he’ll like my smart remark when I’m coming home late. It’s past ten p.m.

“What’d you say?” Striding toward me in a few steps he gets in my face.

“N-nothing,” I stammer with my heart in my throat.

“You’re dressed like a fucking hooker.” His breath stinks of Whiskey.

I’m not dressed like a hooker. I’m wearing an outfit I saw online and found cute. It’s September, the official season of Autumn. I used the things I already had to make up today's look. I did it for myself and not for anyone.

“Are you fucking—” he bangs his hand on the door, a few centimeters away from my head. I jostle in shock. “—lying to me, girl?” he slurs and gets closer to me.

I lean back but the door doesn’t allow me.

For that reason, I come face to face with Dad who looks at me like he hates me.

How did we get here?

Where did this hatred come from?

Why does he hate me?

“Look at this damn skirt. Are you whoring around?”

“No!” I blanch in disgust.

“Then why are you coming home so fucking late?”

“I was with a friend. She needed my help with her studies.” I feel terrible for bringing Marie into this when it was Heath I was spending the time with. We watched Lucifer and ate dinner. I can’t believe he has a personal cook who makes such good food for him.

“Don’t you fucking lie to me.” Red eyes stare at me with rage and hatred, and all my confidence and bravery crumble to the floor in a heap of sand.

“Let’s set a few ground rules, shall we?” Hauling me by my throat he takes me to the kitchen and brings over the whiskey bottle.

I close my eyes at the pungent smell of it.I hate it. I hate it so much.

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