Chapter 3

Willow

The air inside the Neon Café and Bistro was always thick with the smell of burnt oil, coffee grounds, and the sour stench of dirty mop water. When I stepped through the back door, the warm air hitting my face stole my breath for a moment, and my ribs flared with sharp pain at the sudden movement.

In the changing room, which was really nothing more than a cramped, windowless storage closet, I tied my black apron over my enormous gray sweater. My hands were still trembling. The swelling beneath my left eye throbbed under the fluorescent light. The concealer had softened the color, but it could not hide the swelling. I just hoped no one would look too closely at my face.

The moment I stepped behind the counter, I heard the voice that turned every one of my shifts into a nightmare.

“Well, look what the wind dragged in,” Amber’s sharp, mocking voice rang out.

Amber was twenty-two and acted as if she owned the place simply because she was the boss’s niece. Her blond hair fell over her shoulders in perfect waves, and she tied her apron so tightly around her waist that it emphasized every curve. While I scrubbed tables, she usually leaned against the counter, chewing gum and scrolling through her phone.

“Walk into another door again, Freak?” she asked, looking me up and down with contempt.

Her gaze stopped on my split lip and swollen face. There was not a trace of sympathy in her expression, only disgust.

“Seriously, the customers are going to lose their appetite if they have to look at you. You look like you walked straight out of a zombie movie.”

“I fell down the stairs,” I muttered, staring at the floor. My voice was hoarse and weak.

“Sure. You’re always falling.” Amber rolled her eyes.

Then she shoved a sticky cloth and a plastic tray into my hands.

“Go clean tables six and seven. Then take the coffee to table three. I’m not getting my hands covered in ketchup tonight. I have a date.”

I did not argue.

I never argued.

I simply nodded and got to work.

The next hour blurred into one long, painful struggle.

Every time I had to bend down to pick something up from the floor or lift a heavier tray, the places where Victor had kicked me erupted in pain. The enormous bruise on my thigh made me walk with a slight limp.

I tried to work as quickly and invisibly as possible.

I was wiping down a table in the corner when the bell above the front door chimed cheerfully.

Loud, confident laughter filled the café.

I automatically glanced toward the entrance, and my stomach instantly turned to ice.

Chloe.

The queen bee of the school, with her perfectly straightened hair and designer leather jacket. Beside her was Brad, captain of the football team, along with three more members of their elite clique.

The same people who had mocked me in the hallway earlier that day.

The same people who made my days hell while Victor ruled my nights.

Panic clawed at my throat.

I quickly turned away and lowered my head, hoping my long black hair and the dark corner would hide me from them.

Please don’t notice me. Please don’t notice me.

I repeated the words inside my head like a mantra.

They slid into the largest booth in the middle of the café. They were loud, laughing as they tossed their jackets onto the seats as though they had bought the entire place.

I quietly started toward the kitchen.

If I was lucky, Amber would take their order, and I could stay by the sink until they left.

“Hey, Loser!” Amber shouted just as I was about to reach the swinging door.

Her voice cut through the noise of the restaurant.

“Where do you think you’re going? Table four is covered in dirty dishes. And it’s right next to the new customers. Clear it!”

I froze.

I could feel their eyes settle on my back.

“Well, well!” I heard Brad’s deep, mocking voice. “Isn’t that our little school ghost?”

I clenched my teeth.

I did not look at them.

I grabbed a large gray plastic tray and tried to shut out the world.

Just do it.

Clear the dishes and go back to the kitchen.

Do not react.

As I approached table four, which was directly beside theirs, my heartbeat quickened.

I could smell Chloe’s sickeningly sweet perfume.

“Look at what she’s wearing,” Chloe whispered, just loudly enough for me to hear. “I swear that sweater came out of a dumpster. She looks homeless even dressed as a cleaner.”

“Come on, Chloe, leave her alone. Can’t you see she fell again?” one of her friends laughed, clearly referring to the swollen side of my face that was visible even behind my hair.

I did not answer.

With quick, trembling movements, I loaded the dirty plates, half-full coffee cups, and silverware onto my tray.

It grew heavier and heavier.

My wrist hurt.

My ribs screamed from the strain.

All I had to do now was get back to the kitchen.

I turned around.

Keeping my head lowered, I started down the narrow aisle between the two tables.

That was when Brad leaned forward in his seat.

His eyes held that empty, cruel amusement I knew so well.

At the exact moment I reached him, he stretched his leg directly into my path.

I had no time to react.

The toe of my worn sneaker caught against his heavy, expensive shoe.

The world tipped sideways.

The tray flew from my hands.

Everything seemed to happen in slow motion.

I watched the porcelain plates fly through the air, leftover coffee and ketchup spraying in wide arcs.

Then gravity won.

I crashed onto the hard tiled floor with my full weight.

I landed directly on my left side.

The same side Victor had beaten less than an hour ago.

The impact of my body hitting the floor blended with the deafening crash of shattering plates and glasses.

The pain was so sharp and blinding that the world went black for a moment.

The air was ripped from my lungs.

I simply lay there on the filthy tiles, trapped inside my own body, unable to make a single sound.

And then came the laughter.

Chloe’s high, ringing laugh.

Brad’s deep cackle.

The others joining in like a chorus.

“Oops!” Brad said with exaggerated regret. “Sorry, freak. Didn’t see you down there.”

“Oh my God, you’re so pathetic!” Chloe laughed. “You can’t even walk properly?”

Before I could even try to breathe and push myself up, I heard footsteps rushing toward me.

“Oh my God, Willow!” Amber’s voice held no concern, only hysterical anger.

She towered over me.

“What the hell is wrong with you?! Look what you’ve done! Damn it, everything is a complete mess!”

I tried to sit up.

My palm came down on a sharp shard of glass.

I hissed as blood immediately welled from the cut, but I barely cared.

The physical pain was nothing compared to the corrosive humiliation burning through me.

The entire café was watching us.

Customers whispered among themselves.

And there I was, kneeling on the floor in the dirt among broken plates and scraps of food, like some worthless rag someone had thrown away.

“I’m taking this out of your paycheck!” Amber shrieked. “Pick all of this up right now and clean the damn floor before I tell my uncle to fire your ass!”

My paycheck.

The words struck me almost as hard as Victor’s fists.

The money I was saving for Ellie’s future.

The money I endured every one of Victor’s kicks to earn.

Something hard and burning tightened around my throat, but my eyes remained dry.

I could not afford to cry.

Not here.

Not in front of them.

I nodded silently.

With my head lowered and my bleeding hand trembling, I began picking the broken pieces from the floor while Brad and the others laughed above me.

I locked my heart away and retreated into the deepest darkness inside myself, to the place where no insult and no blow could reach me.

I pictured only my little sister’s face.

Always Ellie.

Only Ellie.