The silence creeps back in like a thick fog, wrapping around my chest, pressing heavily.
I clear my throat and flash a smile, a little too wide, a little too bright. “Well, Daddy, college is going great for me too. Mr. Johnson said I’m basically a shoo-in for?—”
“I know how college has been for you,” he cuts in, not even looking at me as he passes the gravy boat to Mama.
The blood drains from my face. “You didn’t ask.”
He looks up now, and the room gets cold. “Didn’t need to. Word travels fast when my daughter’s out on the quad making out with other girls in broad daylight.”
Timothy chokes on his water.
“And don’t get me started on what the security cameras picked up at the ranch,” Daddy continues, cutting into the roast like it’s done something wrong. “You think we wouldn’t find out?”
Mama’s lips twitch in panic, but she keeps her tone soft. “Let’s not do this right now, darling?—”
“No, let’s,” he snaps, glaring at me like I’ve dragged mud into his cathedral. “You want to act grown? Let’s talk about grown consequences.”
Timothy sets his fork down. “Sir, I don’t think that’s fair?—”
“This doesn’t concern you, Timothy,” Daddy barks, voice sharp enough to slice the air. “You’re doing your part. It’s my daughter who can’t seem to remember where she comes from.”
I sit there, stiff in my pale pink dress, my fingernails biting into my napkin under the table.
“God didn’t make you this way,” he says, low and venomous. “You’re choosing to spit in the face of everything this family stands for.”
“Howard,” Mama warns again, voice breaking.
I lift my chin.“You’re wrong. God loves me, and he made who I love.”
“You have no right to speak on God!” Daddy roars, slamming his palm down so hard the silverware rattles. My body jolts like a bullet’s just been fired. The room shrinks, spins, then freezes—all while my hands stay tucked neatly in my lap, like a good little doll.
“I was made in His image,” I say, voice rising before I can stop it. “I am His child. I am yours.”
The silence breaks with the sharp, unforgiving crack of Daddy’s hand across my cheek.
The sound echoes louder than the cry that rips from Mama’s throat.
“Howard!” she gasps, flying to her feet, but I’m already stumbling backward, the sting spreading down my jaw like fire, my vision blurred by tears I won’t let fall here—not here.
Timothy stands, but he’s too late. His chair screeches across the tile as I push mine back, napkin fluttering to the floor like a flag of surrender.
“You will never see that girl again. You hear me? Or I will cut you down where you stand, girl. You will not bring shame to this family!” He speaks through his teeth, spit flying out the corner of his mouth and I back away.
“I see that girl again and you will be dead to us.” He snarls, and I turn before anyone can stop me.
My heels pound against the marble. My breath chokes in my throat. My skin itches with shame. I don’t even hear what they shout after me—Mama’s voice soft and broken, Timothy’s loud and panicked. I don’t stop.
Not until I’m in the foyer.
Not until I’m out the door.
Not until I’m alone behind the barn, sitting on the cold stone steps in the pink dress I used to love, clutching my sides like I’m trying to hold myself together.
The tears come hard now, full and ugly. I can’t breathe through them. My face throbs. My ribs ache from holding everything in.I cry like I haven’t cried in years, like I’m mourning someone—maybe I am. Maybe it’s me.
I don’t know how long I sit there, head against the siding, lip trembling, heart broken and pulsing in my throat.
And then my phone buzzes.
