Page 23 of The Moment Promised

“It’s Adeline,” I correct, stepping around her and following Jason into her house.

The walls are a dark brown, her furniture is burnt wood, and the lights are a depressing yellow. I feel my lungs expanding with darkness and hate each inhale I take.

I want to run far away, but I’m caged in.

“I’ve been waiting so long to meet you, but your dad wouldn’t bring you over.”

Her smile slithers up my spine and sinks its teeth into my neck like a venomous snake.

“Grab me a beer, Erin,” Jason orders, flipping through the channels on the TV.

Erin does what she’s told with a smile plastered to her face. When she hands it to him, she looks me up and down, then rolls her eyes.

The rest of the afternoon is spent in Erin’s depressing house. I remain quiet, only saying a few words when I’m spoken to.

Erin puts on a façade in front of Jason, acting sweet, but the second his back is turned, she gives me dirty looks.

It’s dinner time, and she made meatloaf. I hate meatloaf. I move it around with my fork; the smell brings bile to my throat.

Jason pushes out his chair and gets up, walking toward Erin’s bathroom.

The one I locked myself in seven times today.

“So.” She scrutinizes me like I’m nothing. “Is that really the color of your hair?”

“Yup.” My fork clatters against the plate when I drop it.

“It’s…unique.” She sizes me up and down for the millionth time today, and my cheeks burn with anger.

“Oh, are you embarrassed, honey?” She laughs to herself. “You can always dye it when you’re older,” she whispers, glancing at the bathroom door.

“I like my hair.”

“Boys don’t like girls with red hair.” She pulls her shoulders back like she’s won some unspoken competition.

I lean into the table on my elbows, narrowing my gaze. “My dad always tells my mom how pretty her red hair is, so I think I’ll be fine.” Actually, my dad hates my mom. I think he hates all women who don’t serve him the way he wants, but I don’t say any of that.

She clicks her tongue, putting her face closer to mine. “You little?—”

The bathroom door opens, and Erin pulls back. I think of a bad word, one that starts with B and ends in H.

I pick up my fork and smile at her. “I’m full. Dad, we better get going, I have school in the morning.”

“You can sleep in the guest room!” Erin pipes up, grabbing my plate. “We can save your leftovers for breakfast since you hardly ate any.”

“Sure.” Jason sits back down at the table, and I’m left standing by my chair completely dumbfounded.

“But,” I shake my head, “my clothes are at home.”

“You can wear that.” Jason looks at me pointedly.

I peer down at my clothes that reek of Erin’s cooking and the smell of her house.

Erin walks with a pep in her step, her annoying voice infiltrating my ears, “Let’s go, sweetie. I’ll show you your room.” She holds out a hand for me to grab, but I walk past her.

She closes the door to the guest room, trapping me. “Your dad loves me.”

I ignore her, walking over to the bed and pulling down the brown, itchy comforter.

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