Chapter 10

Since dad’s been back, I have actively tried to avoid him. Just the sight of him often triggers my anxiety, though it’s not been as bad as the first few times. Yet for the past few days, my nightmares have rocked my nightly sleep schedule. I wake up covered in sweat, reliving the hatred in his eyes as he kicks me, punches me in the stomach. My right shoulder aches from all the abuse it took, phantom pains to remind me I’m awake, that it was all real. That these memories are still too fresh.

I walk into AP English with my hood up, hoping it shields my red puffy eyes. I haven’t had a good night’s sleep in the last week so my mood is about as good as my appearance. Which was enough for Mia to comment on and drop when I scowled at her. Mrs. Smith wasn’t in the classroom yet, so I decided to try my hand at a small nap. If I don’t hit a REM cycle, I won’t dream. Or is it the other way around? Ugh! This brain is not cooperating. Just lay your head down for a

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