Page 8 of Crash into me

“I don’t think this is messing with the family image,” I try to reason, but I know I’m lying to myself. Perfectly toned, blonde hair is what they want.

“You’re getting that shit out of your hair. It looks trashy.”

I simply nod, although he’s wrong. Losing my faded red streak is another way of them stripping my identity, but I don't know what else to do. “Okay,” I cave.

He pulls out my Range Rover keys from his pocket, placing them in my hand along with a new black card. “Here’s your car back, and a new card. Buy whatever you want, but you can’t go wherever you want.”

I tilt my head. “Where can I go?”

“The mall, Kate’s, Brett’s, your usual places before the accident.” He runs a hand over his face. “Don’t make yourself more trouble than your worth, Skyler. I truly don’t know why you were on a motorcycle to begin with, but we’re going to sweep all of this under the rug and pretend that it never happened. But no fucking tattooed, motorcycle riding boys will be in your life. Is that clear?”

I recoil. “Crystal.”

It’s like the past summer didn’t exist, like I never left and found myself, like I never met Foster.

That’s the way he wants it.

Like nothing ever happened and he can control my every move.

But little does he know …

I’m not the same girl.

I’ve changed.

And his glass mansion will shatter at my fucking feet when this is all over.

He holds up a third finger. “9 p.m. curfew.”

“I’m an adult!” I scream, relishing in the feeling of my lungs burning from the force of my words.

The fire in my throat immediately matches the sting on my cheek from the slap I receive.

“Room!” he orders.

I look at Mom with a tear trickling down my cheek. As usual, she looks away.

Nothing here has changed; I wasn’t expecting it to.

I retreat to my bed, staring at the millennial pink walls until I can’t keep my eyes open any longer.

* * *

A small knocksounds on the door, but I refuse to get up.

The door opens, but I stay where I am. Lying on the bed, with a pillow over my face.

“I think she’s asleep,” Brett whispers.

Kate gasps a little; I’m guessing she sees my body not in a hospital gown and is reacting to the scars. “How are we supposed to keep an eye on her until she heals? She’s already covered in bruises,” Kate whispers to him.

They really, really suck at whispering.

I would react, I would say something … but they can’t know that I know that they know … it’s all so confusing. I slowly stretch, like I was asleep and now I’m coming to life.

“Shh,” Brett tells Kate. “Sky?”

“Yeah?” I make my voice sound hoarse, but it doesn’t take much effort.

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