Page 9 of Mortify

"Everly—" Astrid starts.

"Don't." The word comes out harsher than intended. "Just... not today, okay?"

I see the concern in her eyes, the words she wants to say.

But I can't handle her kindness right now, not when I'm barely holding myself together.

"I'm here," she says simply. "Whenever you're ready."

I nod and hurry inside, heading straight for the bathroom.

This time, the tears come.

Silent, painful tears for the woman I've become, for the danger I've brought to my family's door, for the choice I'll have to make tomorrow.

My phone buzzes relentlessly:

You have five minutes to apologize for embarrassing me.

Answer me, Everly.

Don't make me come back there.

I saw you walk inside without looking back. Ungrateful bitch.

Five. Fucking. Minutes.

I turn it off completely, hands shaking.

Let him stew.

I'll pay for this rebellion tomorrow, but right now, I need just a few minutes of peace.

When I finally emerge, the party has settled into what it always does on every big occasion.

Kids watching movies, adults talking quietly, the kind of family scene that makes my chest ache.

This is what normal looks like.

This is what I'llneverhave with Dylan.

I help with dishes, keeping busy, trying not to think about tomorrow.

About the red dress hanging in my closet like a threat.

About what Dylan will do to remind me who I belong to.

Starla appears as I head for the back door, needing air. "Where you going, honey?"

"Just need a minute."

She studies me, then deliberately pushes up my sleeve just enough to show the edge of a bruise. "Fall down the stairs?"

"I bruise easily," I whisper, pulling my sleeve down.

"So did I." Her voice is gentle, understanding. "Used to be clumsy as hell. Amazing how coordinated I got once I got away from my stepfather."

"It's not?—"

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