Page 63 of Lush

“No,” he said firmly, voice quiet. “This is our daughter, and she’s hurting, just like you are.”

The room fell silent. Mama freed her arm, glaring in disbelief and betrayal.

“Her over me?” she fumed, turning back to me. “I won’t let you speak to me like that. Not in this house.”

“Yeah, whatever,” I replied, keeping my voice even, despite feeling like a volcano about to blow. “Let’s sweep this under the rug too.”

“Laurene!” Daddy’s voice boomed.

I walked away, legs wobbling, but I didn’t stop. Outside, the night air hit me like a slap of its own, sharp and bracing against my skin. My chest hurt, my throat was tight, but no tears came.

I ran.

My shoes crunched on gravel. I fumbled for my phone, jammed in my earbuds, and cranked up the music to block her out. I hit the end of the driveway, onto the narrow street, and I went faster.

She didn’t care, and never would.

The trees were all a blur, with their shadows stretching out long and dark. I ran till my lungs burned more than my heart ached, till the music was louder than her words.

She was set in her ways. Why the fuck did I think she would?

She couldn’t. And maybe that was what hurt the most—not just that she wouldn’t, but that I still wanted her to. Even aftereverything, I still secretly hoped she’d change her mind and see me for who I was.

Tears blurred my vision, and I fucking hated I was breaking, but I let the tears fall for once. They were mine—hot, angry, and painfully real. The years of isolation, the betrayal, the choices made for me that I never wanted. The blackmail. Reese.

The street ended at the park, stretching out ahead, quiet and empty. I quickened my pace, the music in my ears a shield against the silence.

Then came the blow.

A sharp push to my side sent me crashing to the ground, the air knocked from my lungs. My head struck something hard—a rock, maybe—and a jolt of pain exploded behind my eyes.

The world blurred into dizzying chaos. Erykah Badu’s voice was still playing in my ears, a sharp contrast to the pounding in my skull. Dazed, I groaned, touching my forehead. My fingers came away slick with blood, the pain searing behind my eyes as my body fought to catch up with what had just happened.

Before I could even register it, something cold and rough clamped on to my ankle. I gasped. I was yanked hard, sliding across the ground, scraping my skin.

Panic overwhelmed me.

I twisted, clawing at the ground, but the grip tightened. My leg shot out, and my heel whacked something hard. A grunt. The hands on me faltered for half a second—just long enough for me to see them.

Dressed in black, a hoodie pulled low over their head, obscuring their face. The only clear thing was the glint of metal at their wrist, flashing against the dim light.

Another yank, a harder one this time. I gasped, my fingernails digging into the dirt as I was dragged deeper into the bushes.

No.No.

With all my strength, I heaved my knee upward, then drove my foot forward, the impact echoing as my foot connected withsomething—stomach, ribs—I didn’t care which. A guttural curse ripped from the figure’s lips, their grip loosening ever so slightly.

I acted quickly.

I freed myself with a kick. Adrenaline masked the pain as I pushed myself up.

The figure recovered quickly, lunging for me again—but I was faster this time. I kicked them again, hitting their wrist. The metallic glint vanished as their arm jerked back.

And then, just as quickly as they’d grabbed me, they bolted. Disappearing into the thicket.

But whoever that was?

They had tried to take me.

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