RYAN
Some things stick with you
I need a break. Or coffee. Or both. The last three hours were absolute shit. We spent the entire block going over domestic abuse cases. Patterns, warning signs, intervention protocols. The kind of stuff that looks clean and organized when it’s written in a textbook.
In reality, I couldn’t hear a damn thing our teacher was saying, because all I kept hearing was my mom’s crying, Bailey’s screams, the house being torn apart, and the sound of my mom’s favourite vase—the one I got her for her birthday—shattering against the wall.
And even though it sounds completely ridiculous, somewhere in the middle of class I swear I felt that same rough grip on my arm again.
Like Norman’s hand was wrapped around it the way it used to be when he’d grab me.
Of course my arm wasn’t red, no fingerprints digging into my skin, no sign of anything being there.
He wasn’t actually there. But it still fucking felt like it.
Noah and Kiara both noticed something was off and asked if I was okay. I told them I was fine, even though it was obvious Kiara didn’t buy it for a second, because a minute later she just reached under the table and squeezed my hand. Which did help a little.
By the time we’re released for our free hour, my head is buzzing and my shoulders feel tight. The air outside is thick with fog that clings to your jacket and makes everything feel colder than it actually is.
And, like I said, I need coffee. So without really thinking about it, I’m walking to Hazel )
I laugh under my breath. Then I type:
ME: wanna come over tomorrow night?
MADDY: tomorrow night?
ME: well what girlfriend never comes over to her boyfriend house?
ME: otherwise Bailey and my mom will get suspicious
Three dots appear almost immediately.
MADDY: oh yeah we definitely don’t want that
MADDY: I will come over
ME: great
MADDY: do I need to bring anything?
ME: only that moustache and beautiful beard
MADDY: very funny
I realize I’m smiling before responding:
ME: see you tomorrow
MADDY: see you tomorrow