Page 5 of Bound By Threads
I hold my breath, anxiously listening for any signs that Mom or Dad might be awake, praying they are still sleeping off the drugs from last night. I just want to slip out unnoticed.
* * *
However,luck is not on my side as I quietly creep out of my room after getting dressed.
Mom stands at the kitchen counter, her arms crossed and a scowl already on her face. The air is thick with the stale scent of cigarette smoke, and the smell of burnt plastic lets me know she’s already high.
I can feel her eyes piercing into me as I shuffle past her. “Where do you think you’re going this early?” her voice cuts through the silence.
I stiffen, ready for another blow, verbal or physical, when I don’t answer.
Mom has never liked my silence, even when she knows the reason why. She says it happens to everyone, and we should be happy when it does because it means we are still pretty.
Dad, on the other hand, lost his battle with sobriety the day I came home. He looked at me and knew when no words left my lips. Now he’s a shadow of the dad I once knew, slumped on the sofa in the living room.
The TV flickers in front of him, a ghostly glow on his face, though his eyes are glazed over, lost in a world of his own. He seems oblivious to the rage that’s building in Mom, or he’s just so accustomed to it now that the strikes never bother him.
I hesitate, my hand gripping the strap of my backpack so tightly my knuckles are white. My heart pounds erratically in my chest. I could stay, face the confrontation, and make sure Dad is given a peaceful day as I take Mom’s wrath.
Or I could flee, escape out the door, and give myself a moment to breathe before I’m tortured all day by the three boys who shattered my heart first.
My feet are rootedto the floor, caught in paralysis as my mind weighs up every decision as if it’s life or death. Every option leads to a different kind of pain, and I realize I don’t want both.
I glance back at Mom, her eyes narrowed, anger burning more intensely by the second. Her fingers drum against the countertop, matching the pounding of my heart.
I feel suffocated.
Dad still hasn’t moved. His shoulders now slump under the weight of everything, drowning him, and he can no longer fight his own battles—the battles he long ago stopped fighting.
The TV flickers as an advert plays, but he doesn’t react, only a ghost of the man who used to lift me high into the air and make me feel like I could touch the stars.
Now I can’t reach them or him.
I know staying won’t change him back, won’t erase the demons that now swallow him whole. Mom, on the other hand, has always been lost, bitter, and jealous of our relationship, and her hatred of me only grows the older I get.
The thought of going to school sends a shiver down my spine.
The sharp and cruel laughter echoes in my mind like it always does—a constant reminder of the betrayal that stings like salt water in an open wound.
They’ve made my life a living nightmare, turning every hallway into a gauntlet I have to try to survive and every class into a battleground I have no chance of winning.
With a deep breath,I slowly step towards the door. Each step feels like I am abandoning Dad to Mom’s wrath, but also a tiny act of rebellion for all the times he never stood up for me as she used me as a tool to unleash her anger.
My heart is still racing, but as I reach for the doorknob, I can feel Mom’s gaze boring into my back, a silent warning that this isn’t over.
It never is, but for once, I’m choosing myself.
Chapter4
Scarlett
“Hey, Piglet,” Crew whispers in my ear. The familiar scent of his smoky cologne envelops me, overwhelming me as he positions himself behind me, pressing me firmly against my locker.
I take a moment to slow my breathing, fighting against the rising tide of panic that comes from feeling trapped. My fingers clench around my books, squeezing them tightly to my chest as I close my locker with a soft thud and try to muster the courage to walk past them.
Staying silent, I turn to face them, unable to bear the feeling of them behind me any longer. Leaning back against my locker, I feel the cool metal against my skin, grounding me and preventing me from spiraling deeper into my thoughts.
“Why are you always in such a rush to get away from us, Piglet?” Crew complains, a smirk dancing across his lips as he takes a step closer.
