At least, that’s what I thought she’d done.
I came home from my shift around eight.
Mom was standing inside the front door.
My suitcase sat beside her.
She looked awful.
Red eyes. Pale face.
Hands shaking.
“Mom?”
She opened the door.
“Ashley, you can’t stay here tonight.”
I laughed because it made no sense.
“What?”
“You need to go.”
“Where?”
“I don’t care. Motel. Friend’s house. Anywhere.”
I stared at her.
“Did Richard say something?”
Her eyes flicked toward the staircase.
That told me enough.
My stepfather was upstairs.
Listening.
Richard had been in my life since I was five.
Mom married him two years after my biological father disappeared from our lives completely.
Richard came with two sons.
Brandon and Kyle.
They were eight and ten then.
I wish I could say we eventually became a family.
We didn’t.
Richard controlled everything.
Money. Food. Who used the car.
