Page 174 of Collided

“I do. I wish for it badly.”

“That’s all you’ll ever do.”

“Don’t get cocky. You’re not that good.”

“Fine. I challenge you to touch me.”

“I have a girlfriend, Heath.”

I close my eyes in frustration. “Dickhead.”

“I heard that.”

We enter the gym and wrap our knuckles. Stepping onto the mat we’re at each other. But still, a certain book nerd is all I can think about.

35

Hope

I’ve always wondered how people are so good at pretending—I’m not.

My flushed cheeks and minimal eye contact give away that something is up with me. I bet anyone in Bellmare can tell I’m pretending. But they can’t say the same about my dad. He’s so good at acting, even I believe him.

Sitting at the table, I watch him shower Mom in sweet nothings and kisses.

The sight appalls me in every disturbing way possible. My stomach can’t stop churning at the marvelous act he puts on in front of her.

I wonder if she can see what I see, or if she bluntly chooses to ignore it, just to keep him. She’s missed him the entirety of those three months he was away. She got drunk frequently and sent me texts about how she wished for him to come back. Shemourned his departure when she should’ve been relieved that he was gone.

For heaven’s sake, he tried to kill her—the part she has conveniently forgotten. That’s not it. He’s physically and mentally abused her for years, but looking at her now, it’s like she’s hidden all that mess behind a beautiful painting.

“Why don’t we have a nice dinner over the weekend?” Mom suggests with a twinkling smile.

Dad pauses and frowns. “Dinner?”

She hums. “Yeah. You and me, somewhere nice like the old times.”

I keep my eyes on my breakfast. I wanted to leave, but Mom dragged me here from my room to sit with them and eat a meal. There’s been more PDA than eating.

Dad smiles. “If that’s what you want, sweet.”

Not a second later kissing noises fill my ears and the one pancake I’ve eaten rises to my throat.

I want to be anywhere but home.

So, I slide off the stool. “I-I need to go to the library.” I run up to my room and grab my bag and phone.

On my way to the door, I can feel Dad’s piercing glare on me.

“Be home on time, honey,” Mom hollers.

“She will be. Don’t worry.” Dad assures her with conviction just as I close the door.

After what he did last time, he has all the reasons to be confident. He terrorized me to the extent I can’t stand human touch.

Piece by piece I’m breaking apart. Terror and fear are making a permanent home in me.

Since he’s returned, he’s mademehis target and is giving affection to Mom. I’m not jealous, only dejected that he’s hurting me. I don’t even know what I’ve done to deserve it.

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