Chapter 7
Wynter
The door closes and I can finally take a breath.
I don’t know when it got so hard being in his presence, but I can barely breathe.
There’s only ever been one person’s opinion who truly matters, but he thinks I’m owned by my scars.
I can see it in his eyes. He still sees me as that broken little girl.
And I can hear it in the words of his texts.
He never just texts to catch up or shoot the shit, joke around.
There’s always that underlying concern. “Are you okay?” “Have you made any new friends?” “How’s college going?
Is it better than high school?” “I’m worried about you, Wyn.
Answer me.” “The silence makes me believe that something’s wrong.
I might have to drive there if you don’t answer me. ”
And yet… he never did. Not until my mom called and complained about me. Then he was quick to show up and take her side, wasn’t he? If he wants to help, he should let me go. I’ll pack up my life and move far away. Maybe then I’ll be free.
Free of the memories.
Free of the anger.
Free of the resentment.
Free of the nightmares.
It’s all such a heavy burden to carry. I feel like I’m locked in its prison.
My father’s hatred. My mother’s disappointment.
Martin’s pity. And Vale’s rejection. He up and left.
He ran off with all the pretty girls and his “brothers” and I was left with no one.
The girls at my school got meaner. Boys got more persistent. And the pressure grew tighter.
God, my head hurts from thinking too much today.
But I can’t numb it with a drink because Vale has made it clear to everyone not to serve me.
Maybe sleep will help. I’m too exhausted to concentrate anyway.
I place my computer on the table and go crawl into his bed.
It feels like my entire being is exhausted.
But after three nights of bingeing and being brought to this place, it makes sense. I could sleep for days.
“You’re going to sit there and be quiet. Not another peep. All that yapping about school gave me a headache.”
The dishes slam into the sink, and I grip my ears, trying not to sob. The noise will only make him madder. All I did was share how I won the special award for my science project, but it made him angry instead of happy.
“There you go crying again.” He whips around, holding those evil eyes on me. He doesn’t even look like my dad anymore. “I’m the one that should be crying. Today, I should be celebrating my wedding anniversary, but instead my wife is off fucking another man.”
I shudder as he shuts the water off and stalks back over to the table. He gets right in my face, and I can smell the booze on his breath. “Your mother is a fucking whore. Do you know that? She broke our marital vows and lied to me.”
He slams his fist on the table, and I scream in fear, which only makes him angrier.
His hand comes out and I flinch away. The hit doesn’t come, but a stinging pain comes from my scalp as I’m suddenly yanked by the hair and dragged down to my room.
He shoves me inside, and I rush to my bed to grab my bear, wanting to get away from him.
“If I hear one more goddamn sound out of you tonight, I will spank your ass. Now, go to bed.”
My door slams shut, and I rush into my closet, closing myself inside, trying to muffle my cries into my stuffed animal.
I don’t want him to hurt me. I can still hear him banging things around.
Crash after crash. And then it stops. The house goes silent, but not for long.
His heavy footsteps start pacing the hall outside my bedroom, and the yelling begins all over again: She’s a whore.
You’re going to be just like her. All women are witches.