Chapter Ten
Wren
“Please stop!”I beg.
The kitchen cabinets slam shut. Her face is bright red, twisted in fury. “We’re in trouble because of you!” she hisses, her voice straining in her throat. “I could go to jail because of you!”
I open my mouth to respond, but nothing comes out. I never wanted this. I didn’t ask to be sick. Why doesn’t she understand that? Does she think I enjoy feeling this way?
“At least two out of three of my daughters aren’t fucked up.”
The words stab straight into my heart, leaving me gasping for air. Two out of three. . .
“You’ll amount to nothing.” She continues as I walk toward my room, ready to hide from her torment. “Such a disappointment.”
Two out of three.
“I’m a good mom.”
Two out of three.
“You’re the problem here, not me!”
Two out of three. . .
“I hope you’re happy!” she hollers when I reach my room.
As I turn the doorknob, my knees give out, and I fall to the ground. I don’t land on the carpet, though. I plummet straight through the earth as her words ring through my head:
Two out of three.
My eyes fly open, and the chatter of birds reaches my ears. I try to allow their song to stabilize my racing mind. My heart is pounding, pumping blood through my veins and throbbing in my eardrums.
“She’s not here,” I tell myself. “You’re safe.”
Releasing a shaky exhale, I work on grounding myself. With my hand flat against the mattress, I roll onto my back and stare at the ceiling. Following the breathing technique I learned in therapy all those years ago, I inhale in the first corner, exhale in the second, and repeat until I form a box.
Two out of three.
“No,” I mutter.
These are merely stress nightmares. Nothing more. I’m safe. Theo won’t let her anywhere near me.
Theo, where did he?—
The door opens, so I tilt my head back as Theo strolls into the room.
“Oh good, you’re up,” he chirps while walking around the bed.
With a groan, I sit up and run my fingers through the knots in my hair. “What time is it?”
Theo pulls back the curtains, and the sun blinds me. “11:00 a.m.”
“Ugh, I haven’t slept this late in years.” I bring my arm in front of my eyes. “When did you wake up?”
“I was up at the ass crack of dawn, buying you essentials, slaving over a hot stove, and scrubbing the floors with nothing but a toothbrush.” He drapes the back of his hand over his forehead and fans his face with the other.
“And by that, you mean you placed an order on an app, picked it up without leaving your car, ordered takeout, and vacuumed?” I ask, scrubbing my hand down my face.
