I had been lying in my room for hours, the nightmare and events of yesterday replaying over and over in my mind. My phone had been buzzing relentlessly all evening and morning, a constant reminder of the world outside my own head. Richard's name had flashed on the screen over and over, each call a reminder I was avoiding.
I didn't pick up.
It had been almost 14 hours since I left the safety of my room, and now hunger gnawed at me, pushing me downstairs to find something to eat.
As I entered the kitchen, the silence was suffocating, but it didn't last. My stepfather stepped into the doorway, blocking my escape. His expression was tight and too controlled.
I froze.
"Now that you decided to come down and face me, I have to tell you to your face that you're grounded," Victor said, his tone cold and firm.
I blinked, my chest tightening. "Grounded for what?" I shot back, my voice trembling with a mix of anger and disbelief. "For lying? Or for speaking to a man over the phone you don't approve of?"
He didn't flinch. "That's beside the point," he said, "We need rules in this house."
"Since when?" My voice rose in a rush of frustration, and I could feel the heat creeping up my neck. " It is the fact that Clara is allowed to do whatever she wants, and I'm stuck here? Or that you've never really spoken to me before? You're not even my real dad, and you use every chance you get to remind me of that."
My mother's voice cut through the tension like a blade. "You can't say that to him, Selena," she said in shock, looking up from the counter. "He's taken care of you since you were a baby."
I scoffed, the words escaping my mouth before I could stop them. "Really? Every day with him feels more like a prison. I'm not a kid anymore. So I'd rather leave than stay grounded."
The room fell silent. My mother's face flushed with anger, but there was something in her eyes; something like regret.
Maybe. I didn't care.
I turned on my heel, storming back toward the stairs, the sound of my feet pounding against the floor echoing through the house, leaving them in stunned silence behind me.
The clock felt like an enemy, each tick dragging on, every minute stretching into eternity. Every second felt like a thousand, the tension in my chest only growing heavier with each passing hour.
Suddenly, my phone buzzed loud this time, as if it too were impatient.
I glanced at the screen and saw the name flash. It was Ella. Without a moment's hesitation, I answered, my voice flat and unenthused.
"Hey," I muttered, trying to mask my frustration.
"Finally!" Ella's voice cracked through the silence, a mixture of worry and relief. I could practically hear her breath of relief. "Where have you been 'cause you haven't picked up since yesterday? I was about to come over, but then I realized the situation at your house…"
"What's up?" I asked with a sigh, my patience running thin.
"What's up?" Ella shot back, her voice sharp with anger. "Is that all you can say after going incommunicado on me? I was seriously considering coming to your house, but I had to stop myself, knowing what kind of tension is probably brewing there."
I let out a long, tired breath. "It's a long story," I mumbled. "I don't feel like talking about it over the phone."
"I'm coming over now," she declared, cutting through my hesitation.
"No, please don't," I interrupted quickly, the thought of facing her at home too much. "I mean, let's meet somewhere else. I don't want to be home anyway."
There was a slight pause on the other end before she sighed. "Alright. Where should we meet?"
I hesitated, my mind scrambling for a neutral place. Finally, I blurted out, "Let's meet at the city library."
Ella's disapproval was immediate. "Sounds good," she grunted, clearly displeased. "But don't expect me to love it. I'll be there in thirty minutes."
I winced at the tone, knowing how much she hated the library. She never liked going there alone, and her response only cemented my doubt. Something felt off. "On second thoughts," I trailed off, biting my lip. "Come by the next street and pick me up. I don't want you to go there alone."
I could almost hear her roll her eyes. "Fine. See you in a bit." She hung up, and I stood there for a moment, my fingers clenching the phone, my heart beating a little too fast.
As I stepped out of the bathroom, my eyes locked with my reflection in the mirror. A swirl of emotions hit me; uncertainty, frustration, and a hint of hope. Years of avoiding men's attention flooded back, knowing the mess it always led to. I didn't want to disappoint my mother, but I couldn't ignore the magnetic pull I felt toward Stanley, the way he smiled at me yesterday, the warmth in his gaze.
I had chosen the library for a reason. A small, reckless hope flared that maybe, just maybe, he'd be there too. But the thought of Richard made my stomach churn. How did he get my number? I had blocked every attempt he made to contact me. The anger simmered inside, boiling over at the very thought.
As I slipped my shoes on, my phone buzzed again. Grabbing it off the bed, I held it to my ear, using my shoulder to keep it in place as I quickly finished applying lip tint.
"Are you ready?" Ella asked, her voice impatient.
"Yeah," I answered, my breath quickening. "I'll be down in a minute."
"Alright, I'm waiting on the next street," she replied, the call ending abruptly.
I pulled my hoodie on, my hands trembling slightly, but I steadied myself as I took one last look in the mirror. I couldn't stay in this house, couldn't face the weight of my thoughts any longer.
The emptiness of the house around me only deepened my sense of isolation. I hated weekends. They dragged on, full of nothingness, each hour stretching endlessly with the absence of any real purpose.
As I came down the stairs, the quiet seemed louder than usual, echoing through the empty house. I pushed open the front door, and the cold air hit me like a slap, sharp and biting.
Time was running out, and I didn't know what I'd find waiting for me next for the rest of this weekend.