Page 144 of The Dollhouse

“She started it,” I said, pointing to Willow, who my father now currently held onto. Everyone had forgotten her dropped phone on the floor. All eyes were on my sister and me, and the Oakes had huddled together, similar expressions on their face as if they’d just discovered a goldmine.

“I started it?Istarted it?” Willow shrieked. “You’re the one who couldn’t be happy with the boyfriends you already have and had to steal mine!”

“Wyatt was never your boyfriend,” I shot back. “He chose me over you, fair and square.”

My mother suddenly thought she had the whole story, for she turned grave, grim, and solemn beyond all belief. “Zoey, tell me you didn’t try to steal Willow’s boyfriend.”

My mouth fell open, and I couldn’t say anything for a long while. Why on earth my parents always sided with Willow was beyond me. I didn’t understand it and I knew I never would. It didn’t make a lick of sense, and that’s what pissed me off the most, I think.

All this time, I’d tried to be the daughter they thought I was, the one they wanted, and you know what? It was never enough. I was never good enough for them. Try and try as I might, I could never measure up.

“You’re joking, right? You’ve got to be fucking joking,” I spoke, uncaring that my tone came off harsh and abrasive. “Willow can never do wrong. Apparently we’re still on that track. Isn’t it getting worn out by now? I mean, it’s been this way my whole fucking life. I shouldn’t be surprised that you still side with her over me.”

“Zoey,” my father spoke, a warning. “Watch your language. While you are here in this house, I will not have you talking to your mother that way, or your sister.” That last part was an afterthought, but he still said it, and therefore it pissed me off to no end.

It was instant. I saw red. Steam might as well have been coming out of my ears at this rate. My blood boiled in my veins, and I wanted to scream at them. I wanted to take their heads and bang them on the walls over and over again—it was the only way to knock some sense into them at this rate.

They were so… so… God, I just hated them so much. There was nothing redeeming about either of them.

“No,” I said, “you don’t get to tell me what to do. I don’t live in this stupid house anymore. You can’t tell me what to say or what to fucking do. If I want to have a thousand boyfriends, I will. If I want to whore myself out to any man who wants to stick it in me, I will. It’s my body, my fucking choice. So you and Mom and Willow can all suck it, because I’m done here.”

Both my parents grew red at the face at that, and Willow shot back some colorful curse words at me. I knew if I stayed, I’d only get madder, so I decided to go. The night had served its purpose, anyway, so there was no reason why I had to stay here and subject myself to further insult.

My family could do more than suck it. They could go right off and fuck themselves.

“I’m out,” I said, grabbing my clutch and stepping around the broken glass. “Have a great night. Mr. and Mrs. Oakes, hope you find Bryan.” My voice could not come off sounding more sarcastic, and I exited the study with my free hand in the air, middle finger high.

I slammed the front door on my way out, making as big of a scene as I could. The Oakes would have a lot of gossip to spread, that’s for sure, and you know what? I didn’t fucking care if they reported their son as missing and sent the cops my way. I had guys who could take care of that. Roman and Carter weren’t exactly new at this.

Fuck them. God, fuck them so hard. I played the game their way and they still found a way to piss me the fuck off and make me want to scream. My family was as good as dead to me. It was more than obvious my mother and father would never change, that they would always choose Willow over me. It was also clear Willow would never change her conniving ways. Who the hell wanted a sister like that, a family like that? No one with any sense in their skulls, that’s for sure.

The night air was cool on my skin, and as I stormed down the driveway, I gave the house another middle finger, in case anyone stood at the front windows, watching me go. I didn’t even care that they saw me walk off; it just went to show how badly I needed to get the fuck out of there.

I knew the main streets of this city by heart, and during the walk home, my anger did not subside. It boiled, simmered, doing anything but lessening. My mind replayed the night’s events. As badly as I wished I didn’t have to go there alone, how much I wanted to rub both Carter and Roman in their faces, I still would consider this night a win.

I’d gone in, fucked shit up, and left them in the midst of it. My mother was probably trying to laugh it off with the Oakes, but as stupid as the Oakes were, they weren’tthatstupid. They’d seen the dirty drama my family tried to hide in its closets, and though they’d promise to keep it between them, they wouldn’t. I knew they wouldn’t. Gossip and rumors were the backbones of Hillcrest, and its people were always giddy when they got to be the first ones to spill another’s dirty secrets.

I made it home safely, throwing on all the lights after kicking off my heels. My body felt constricted, like I needed to get out of the dress. I wanted to burn it. Hell, I wanted to burn this whole fucking city down and watch the flames lick the sky. Would that be so bad? There weren’t many good souls here, anyway.

And I’d just fucked over one of them.

I headed up to my room, changing out of the dress and leaving it in a pile on the floor. The clutch my phone sat in was on my bed, and I heard it buzzing. Wearing my pajama shorts and a small tank top, I went to the bed and pulled my phone out.

Wyatt had texted me, but I ignored it. Instead, I grabbed my phone and left the room. I went downstairs, where we kept everything we’d gotten in the beginning of this in a manila envelope. The pictures, the party list, all the good stuff. The stuff that had helped me out immensely.

I set my phone down, sliding into a barstool as I opened the folder. If I said I’d calmed down since my parents’ house, I’d be lying. I still felt like screaming, like losing it, and that was precisely why I knew we had to end this.

My fingers found the party list, the paper that detailed the dates of the events my parents usually went to, and my eyes scanned it. I checked today’s date on my phone, the wheels in my head spinning.

Nothing this weekend, as far as the big Hillcrest events were concerned. Nothing in Midpark, either. Everyone here was more than willing to go to an extra party or two, and with that thought in my head, I called Roman.

The man didn’t answer, which I suspected was because he was driving back here. So then I called Carter, who picked up on the second ring: “Zoey. Did you leave the dinner? We’re almost back—”

“I’m home now,” I told him, my gut hardening as I stared down at the list. “I’m almost done here, but I need help with this last thing.” I bit my lower lip before saying, “Roman needs to make a few calls for me.” I wasn’t above using Roman’s connections—or Markus’s connections again.

I’d said it before, and I’d say it again: that was for Willow. My parents needed a much bigger, much uglier public spectacle for me to be content with leaving. I wanted to mar their name to the point where no one would invite them over, where their invitations to whatever party would be revoked because they were too big a laughingstock to entertain.

“Let me put you on speaker,” Carter harrumphed. A moment passed before he said, “Go ahead.”

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