I've hated this house since I was a kid.
It never felt like home—just a place I was stuck in. Everything got worse after Mom left for some big-shot guy from Connecticut.
I stare at the ceiling of my old, beat-up Honda. The clock on the dash reads 1:30 a.m. I rub my face, sit the seat back up, and turn off the engine. I take a deep breath before stepping out, the cold air burning my lungs.
Inside, I crush a couple of empty beer cans behind the door before quietly shutting it. Jason's sprawled on the couch, snoring.
I stopped calling him Dad after Mom left.Got fed up with his shit.
I trace the scar under my right eye with my finger—a reminder of how much he hates me. Just as much as I hate him. Last week he told me I remind him too much of the bitch who used to live here.
Also known as my mother.
My phone buzzes. I ignore it.Then it rings.
I groan and head to my room before answering without checking the name.
"Hello?" My voice comes out sharp.
Then I hear her.
"Zane? I just saw Alex's post. Are you okay?"
Gia sounds genuinely worried.
I run a hand through my hair, glancing down at my scuffed-up jeans.
"Yeah. I'm good. Don't worry about me," I say, brushing it off. I was in the hospital four hours ago because I'd been an idiot at work, and of course Alex made it look like I'd been shot.
"I just got hit in the face—jaw—with a crate. I'm fine. You know Alex is dramatic." I scoff.
"Okay," she says.
She's not convinced.
"Can I come over? I just want to—"
"No!" I cut her off. "I—I'm going to sleep, Gia. I'm tired. It's been a long day."
I start biting my nails, pacing the room.
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to invade. I just… I wanted to make sure you're okay," she whispers.
"I'm sorry," I say quickly. "I—fuck, I shouldn't have yelled. I'm just tired, okay? I'm fine. I promise."
The guilt settles heavy in my chest.
"Alright… if you need anything, I'm here," she says softly.
"I know," I whisper.
I end the call.
I can't let her get close.It's not safe—for her or for me.
I'm a troubled kid. I don't know why she wants me anyway. I'm hotheaded, like the principal loves to remind me during my millionth visit to his office.
I wasn't a good kid.
School comes too fast.
Before I know it, I'm back in the rotten building, sliding into my seat next to Alex. I barely have time to drop my bag on the floor before someone's standing in front of my desk.
"Zane."
Gia.
She looks concerned—annoyed, even. I smirk without thinking.
Why did I just do that?
Before I can react, she grabs my face, tilting my head to the side. Her grip is firm but careful.
"What are you doing?" I mutter.
"You said it wasn't that bad," she says, glaring at me. "There are literally stitches, Zane. That looks pretty bad to me."
"Gia, I'm fine—"
She runs her finger lightly around the stitches, pressing just enough.
Pain shoots through my jaw.
"Alright, princess, let's not do that," I hiss, pulling away.
Her hands drop to her sides, but her expression stays upset.
"You should've told me," she says quietly.
I don't answer.
And somehow, that makes it worse.