Kelly
Everyone in my kitchen--Dan, Crash, Tommy, and me--stare, frozen, at the mess Crash heaved all over his shoes.
Dan goes so red he's almost purple. "Kelly, have you been drinking?" His words echo off the kitchen walls.
"No!"
"Kelly, stay back." Crash is on all fours, terrible noises erupting from his chest as he coughs and retches.
Crash is here. Crash is actually, physically, in-my-kitchen here.
Dan steps firmly back and away from him, sneering at the mess, quivering with rage. "I knew it," he seethes. "I told your mother your sweet-little-girl thing was all an act."
"No! It's not what you think—"
Dan glares and I take a step back. I feel that look in my bones.
Crash coughs. "Kel?" he says weakly, and my heart aches. I've envisioned this moment every day for a year. It was never supposed to be like this.
