My voice cracked on the last word, but I tried to smile.It didn’t land. Not even close.Andrew’s jaw tightened. His fists clenched by his side.“Jesus Christ, Captain,” he muttered, walking forward. “What the hell did you do?”I shrugged, metal links clinking as I shifted. “Depends on who you ask.”“Fine,” he said, stopping in front of me, arms crossed. “I’ll ask you. What. Did. You. Do?”I exhaled through my nose. “Hit my father.”He didn’t say anything.I tilted my head, trying to gauge him. “Twice.”Still nothing.“Okay, maybe a lot of times,” I added with a wince. “There was a wall involved.”That finally got a reaction. Andrew inhaled sharply and turned away, like he couldn’t even look at me. He paced for a moment, raking a hand through his hair.“I don’t even know why I came,” he muttered to himself.My smile slipped.He turned back around, eyes narrowed. “You seriously dragged me into this?”“I didn’t drag anyone,” I said. “I just gave them your number. The rest was up to you.
CAPTAIN ~The cuffs were cold. Cold and wet. They bit into my skin, already slick with blood—some of it mine, some of it not.I stared down at my hands.Bloodied. Bruised. Shaking.Fuck.The officer sitting across from me hadn’t said much. Just sat there silently like he was giving me space to self-destruct with dignity. Or maybe he just didn’t want to deal with the mess I clearly was.I shifted slightly in my seat, chains clinking, and winced. My wrist was already swelling, probably from when I slammed my father into the wall. Or from the punches.I grimaced, staring at the small cuts and smears of crimson dried under my fingernails.This wasn’t supposed to happen.I had sworn—sworn with every ounce of shame and resolve I could muster—that I’d never let myself spiral like this again. Not after the first time. Not after that night when I was twenty, blackout drunk, fists bloodied, and they dragged me out of that dive bar, kicking and screaming at the top of my lungs over the motionle
ANDREW ~The worst part about mornings was that they didn’t care if you barely survived the day before.They just… came.Whether or not you were ready. Whether or not you wanted to get out of bed. Whether or not your whole world had cracked open and bled out onto the floor the day before—morning still came.I rolled onto my side and groaned into my pillow. My limbs felt like concrete, stiff from sleeping in one position for too long. My brain was cotton. Slow. Static-filled. My mouth dry and my eyes crusty at the corners.Great. Alive, technically. Not exactly thriving.I sat up slowly, blinking against the light coming in from the window. My blinds were half-crooked. The city outside sounded like usual—cars honking, people yelling, dogs barking.I ran a hand down my face and sighed, then got out of bed and dragged myself toward the bathroom. The floor was cold. My feet slapped against it with a tired rhythm.Inside the bathroom, I stared at myself in the mirror for a long second.Da
I was still thinking about Ms. Beckett when I pulled into the underground parking. Her words had echoed the entire drive home—gentle, almost annoyingly wise. But comforting, in that way older adults people sometimes manage to be when you’re completely falling apart and pretending you’re not.I grabbed my groceries and took the elevator up to my floor.But the second the doors slid open, that fleeting peace was shattered.Because there he was—my father. Standing right in front of my apartment door like a fucking curse made flesh. His arms were crossed, face blank in that superior way that used to scare the shit out of me as a kid.Now, it just pissed me off.“What the fuck are you doing here?” I asked, stepping out, grocery bags still digging into my fingers.He turned his head slowly, like he’d been waiting for hours. His face was pale, but his eyes were clear, calculating. That was always the worst part. He never needed to raise his voice. His words alone did the bleeding.“She’s dea
I hadn’t planned on making a stop anywhere. The plan was to go straight home after eating with James, spend the rest of the day doing absolutely fucking nothing. But something about the half empty fridge made me turn the wheel instead of taking my usual exit.The parking lot was half full, but inside the store, it was crowded in that slow, suffocating way. People pushing carts like they had nowhere else to be. I grabbed a basket instead of a cart—because I had no intention of staying long—and headed down the first aisle.Tomatoes. Eggs. Bread. Maybe some bacon. My brain wasn’t in it. I kept walking past shelves and grabbing things on autopilot, barely looking at the labels. My thoughts were louder than the music humming through the ceiling speakers.Andrew hadn’t texted since that night.Not that I expected him to.Okay. Maybe I did.Maybe a tiny, desperate, idiotic part of me thought something shifted between us.I sighed and reached for a box of cereal—fucking Lucky Charms, of all t
James was talking again. Something about a girl from psych class who wouldn’t stop texting him, or maybe it was the girl from the gym who accidentally sent him a shirtless pic. I didn’t know. I wasn’t really listening.I just sat there, fork scraping against my plate as I pushed my eggs around like I was six years old and couldn’t stomach vegetables. The diner was warm, loud with afternoon clatter, and the scent of burnt bacon hung around like an unwanted guest. I could barely taste my food, but I kept chewing anyway, pretending to be human.James, of course, didn’t notice. Or maybe he did and just didn’t say anything. He was on a roll—hand gestures, animated expressions, half-laughing at his own stories like he was auditioning for a talk show.I blinked at him, tuning in halfway through some tangent about packing cubes and TSA agents with superiority complexes.“—and anyway, I told the girl, if you’re gonna grope me at security, you better buy me dinner first, right?” James snorted,