Blood and Mercy
He wheels himself toward his studio without another word, the door slamming behind him hard enough that the sound echoes through the whole house.
I stand there alone in his room, staring at the exercises we barely got through, and feel something crack open in my chest.
*****
That evening, I’m sitting on the floor of my room with my back against the bed, phone pressed to my ear, waiting for Renee to pick up.
She answers on the third ring. “Hey, girl. How’s mansion life?”
Her voice is so normal, so familiar, that I have to close my eyes to keep from crying.
“It’s hard,” I manage.
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