Page 6 of Unhinged Love

But before he can come back, I manage to close the door, then reach up to flip the lock. The sound is like a pin piercing a balloon, and now whatever was keeping my panic locked away is gone.

Breathe. In. Out.I’m not dying. This is not going to kill me. It’s a panic attack, that’s all. My heart isn’t going to burst out of my chest, even if that’s how it feels. The cold sweat along the back of my neck will go away. I’ll be okay. I’ll get through this. One breath at a time.

I’m safe. Closing my eyes, I rest my head against the door and return to my slow, measured breathing. I’m safe. Nothing’s going to hurt me. I have to force myself to tune into the feeling of the floor under me, the door at my back. They’re both sturdy and cool, and they’re supporting me. I am supported. I am safe.

It feels like it takes forever for my heartbeat to slow down a little. It doesn’t hurt so much in my chest once I slowly open my eyes again to gaze at the room that’s mine as of today. To distract my brain, I study everything slowly, one thing at a time. The big, four-poster bed that does make my comforter look cheap. The pair of windows that look out over one side of the property with its emerald-green lawn. Not a weed in sight out there. Anotherhuge difference from the neighborhood we’ve just moved from. That was more weeds than grass on the tiny strips of lawn in front of each house.

The closet is ten times bigger than I’ll ever need. I’m pretty sure it’s bigger than my old bedroom. Mom’s first words when she took a look at it ring in my head.“Finally, I can afford to start dressing you the way a girl should dress.”Right, because that’s all that matters. Not whether I want to wear the clothes she thinks will look good on me. It’s amazing she can manage to look at me at all, since I’m so completely wrong in every way.

No, I’m not thinking about that right now. I’m trying to calm myself down, not send myself into another panic attack as I imagine being dragged from store to store, forced to try on clothes I wouldn’t feel comfortable leaving the house in. Having every inch of me poked and prodded and criticized. That’s future stuff, anyway. It’s not happening now. I have to focus on the present.

The bathroom door sits diagonally from where I’m curled up on the floor with my knees pulled up to my chest. That’s one positive in all of this, having my own bathroom where there will be room for my things and not just Mom’s. I need to look for whatever little bit of happiness I can get out of this situation.

Finally, I’m myself again. I can push myself up from the shiny floor and go to the dresser to pull out a pair of pajamas. After the day I’ve had, all I want is to sleep. Not only because my body is tired after the crazy rush of last-minute packing. It’s my only escape. My dreams are the only place where I can be myself. Where I don’t have to be afraid to catch the wrong person’s eye or breathe too hard or attract attention in any other way. I don’t constantly feel like I’m under attack.

The way I feel right now. It’s been a while since Carter left, and I haven’t heard anything from him outside the locked door,but that doesn’t mean he’s not planning something. He won’t stop until he breaks me down and watches me crumble.

Just another thing to hate him for. When I crawl into bed, what should be comforting is anything but. What if he decides to come back? What if he has a key? Of course he would. This is his house. I’m sure he could find it if he wanted to. The dresser sits against the wall, close to the door, but it’s way too big for me to think about sliding over to block his entrance.

Meaning all I can do is lie in bed and stare at the door while the lamp on the nightstand glows. He might not come in tonight, but I need to be ready, just in case he does.

THREE

Carter

Family dinners aren’tbad enough. Now we have to have family breakfast, too. Pretty soon we’ll be wearing matching clothes.

“Big day for you.” I’ve never seen anyone try to force a smile on somebody else until now, watching Dad aim his smile at Elliana like a weapon. I believe his heart’s in the right place. It’s his brain I’m worried about. “First day of classes at a new school.”

“One thing I’ve never had to worry about is Elliana’s grades.” Wow. It almost sounds like Irene is trying to compliment her daughter. That can’t be right. Since everything has to be about her.

“I’m sure with Carter to show you around, you won’t have any problem meeting new people and making friends.” Dad is too busy winking at Irene like he’s trying to reassure her to see my mouth falling open. What is it with him making promises for me, deciding what I’m going to do, what will or will not be a problem? The fuck? It’s like he’s had a personality transplant.

“I’m not sure I should.” Putting butter on a piece of toast gives me something to do with my hands other than letting them shake with rage. When I end up tearing the bread because I’m pressing too hard, I have to set the whole thing down on my plate.

“Why not?” There’s an edge to his question. It makes me lift my gaze to meet his from across the round table in the kitchen’s breakfast nook. The sunshine streaming in through the window to his left makes his eyes sparkle, but there’s nothing cheerful in them. “Are you so busy you can’t introduce your stepsister to your friends?”

At least he’s only calling her my stepsister this time. Maybe he finally figured out he was taking things too far. “It’s not that I’m busy. But…”

I have to ask. And since the girl we’re talking about is staring at her plate like it’s the most interesting thing she’s ever seen instead of speaking up for herself or even participating, I’m the only one who’s going to point this out. “Is that what she wants? For me to introduce her around? Maybe we should find that out first.”

He doesn’t blink before asking, “Why wouldn’t she want that?”

Jesus Christ. He’s either trying his damnedest to be oblivious, or he really has lost his mind. I’m not even sure anymore.

“Forget it. Whatever.” I shouldn’t have said anything. He doesn’t get it. He refuses to.

Obviously, Irene isn’t cool with the fact that Dad has stopped paying attention to her for an entire thirty seconds. She leans across the table, tits ready to fall out of her low-cut shirt, to tap her obnoxious fingernails against his arm. I don’t know how she manages to do anything with nails that long. “Did you tell Carter yet?”

I swear to God, if she’s pregnant, I will flip this fucking table.

Dad’s face brightens right away. “We’re going on a little trip this coming weekend, the two of us,” he explains. “I expect you to be on your best behavior while we’re gone.”

An entire weekend where I won’t have to breathe the same air as the gold-digging whore? The day is finally starting to look up, even if it makes me sick to think of how soon she’ll be spending more of Dad’s money when she did nothing to earn it. It’s one thing for him to support me—I’m his son, and I’m not walking around asking for elaborate weddings and expensive trips.

“Have a good time,” I murmur, forcing a tiny grin before finishing my food. I need to get out of here before I say something I can’t take back. If there’s one thing I won’t accept, it’s letting a couple of gold diggers ruin my family. And no matter what Dad says, we were a family before he met Irene.

I’m on my way to the sink with my plate when Dad speaks behind me. “I guess you’ll need a ride to school.” He’s not talking to me. I have a car.

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