Page 209 of Collided

I don’t speak a word.

He closes his eyes. “Fuck! I knew it. I knew there was someone.”

“Heath, please let it go. I’ll be fine—”

He turns to me with a dark look. “Fine? Hope, he’s leaving fucking marks on you. Do you know how violent he must be—”

“Iknowhow violent he is,” I burst out.

My chest burns with heat, but I continue, “He hurts me. He hits me. Pushes me. Slaps me. Chokes me. He does so much to me, so believe me I know. I know how violent he is. You don’t have to say it. It hurts a hundred times more when you say it.”

He breathes heavily. “Tell me who he is, and I’ll swear I’ll bury him six feet under. You won’t ever have to be afraid of him.”

I hate how much it hurts when I talk about that monster. He isn’t a human to me anymore.

My phone buzzes with a phone call. I retrieve it and see Mom's name.

I let it ring until it gets sent to voicemail.

A minute later, a message pops up on the screen.

Mom: Hope, where are you? I told you there would be a family dinner tonight. Why aren’t you here?

Mom: Get home right now.

Mom: Your dad and I are waiting.

I switch off my phone with trembling hands.

Right. The dinner. It’s why I vomited earlier.

A stare burns the side of my face. I know Heath is watching me closely. I bet he can read my emotions right off of my face as I do with books.

The panic starts to bubble under the surface, but I diminish it. I can’t have another breakdown after having one just minutes ago.

I clean my face and sit up straight. “I need to go home.”

“Home? Is that where he is?” He pauses. “You told me you live alone with your mother.”

He’s back.Two words. Certainly, they shouldn’t be this difficult to speak—they are.

“I…” Silence follows.

Heath stares at me with patience. “Tell me what’s going on? Who is this man that hurts you? Is this a man your mother is seeing or something? Give me something, Hope.”

My phone buzzes again and I see another text from Mom.

Turning to him I say, “I need to go home. Now. Please.”

He looks torn between interrogating me or taking me home. I understand the dilemma since I’m stuck in one myself. I want to tell him everything but protect him too.

Starting the car, he gives me a hard look that saysI don’t want you to fucking go.

“Will you be okay?”

I could lie to him—Ishouldlie to him. But he’s the last person I want to lie to anymore.

“I think I will be. I’m here, aren’t I?” I give him an encouraging smile, wishing it raises his spirits.

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