Page 16 of I'm sorry, Princess
Then, my screen lights up again.
A message from Ian.
Ian:I’m sorry I missed lunch. Got stuck at work. I’ll see you Monday. Miss you.
Me:My mother ordered most of the food. Don’t worry about it. See you Monday, miss u too.
Ian:I figured. Lauren’s cooking is awful, and my father couldn’t stop praising her steak.
Me:I’m sure he enjoyed the view of her more than her cooking.
Ian:Don’t mind him.
Don’t mind him.
Easy for him to say. He doesn’t have to sit at that table, pretending not to notice the way his father’s eyes linger on my mother’s legs, her lips, her smile that’s stretched too thin.
He doesn’t have to wonder how long it’s been going on, or if it ever stopped.
I don’t reply.
I toss my phone on the bed and let the weight of everything settle over me like a heavy blanket. I won’t do this tonight. I won’t spiral. I won’t bleed my thoughts dry over things I can’t control.
So, I do the only thing I can,
I check out.
I run a hot bath.
I wash my hair, letting the water burn my skin just enough to remind me I’m alive.
I do my skincare routine, methodically, like following the steps will somehow hold me together.
I curl up on the couch with my book but don’t absorb a single word.
I flip through TV channels like a ghost.
And for the rest of the night, I allow myself to become something soft and numb.
A body without a heart.
A mind without thoughts.
A girl, just floating.
Chapter Five
Lorenzo
One week.
That’s how long they’ve kept me locked in this concrete box, playing their little power games.
Since I stopped cooperating and started breaking noses, they assigned me a shrink. Three sessions a week, like that’s supposed to fix me. Like I’m some project they can save.
This is my second session.
The first one cried and quit.
