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Why have I stayed for two more godforsaken years?

Some misguided sense of loyalty and, I suppose, fear of abandoning her. As twisted as it is, I feel responsible for her. Especially when she has almost no one in her life whom she can trust.

Her father, the politician?

I blame him for at least half the reason she’s so fucked up.

Her mother?

A useless, xanaxed-out barnacle on the sinking ship that is her family.

But I’m getting real fucking close to the end of my fraying rope. I fuckingdreadgoing out of the house. I have for years because of this shit. I’ve moulded my whole life around preventing arguments with Seraphine.

We’re members at a gym that’s open 24 hours; I only go with her, andonlyduring late-night hours when it’s guaranteed to be empty.

And my friends?

What friends?

I can barely speak on the phone to them, and can only hang out with them if she’s with us.

“You’re gaslighting me, and I fucking know it.”

I attempt to step forward and lay my hands gently on her shoulders to calm her. “Sera, please. I can’t keep doing this.”

Seraphine’s dark eyes burn with indignation.

“I fucking hate you.”

She turns, snatching her keys and purse off the counter.

“Where are you going?”

“Out.”

Trying to maintain some semblance of calm, my eyes slide to the oven’s digital clock.

“It’s ten o’clock at night.”

“And?”

“Nothin’s open but bars and Walmart.”

“I’m going to my cousin’s.”

Jesus Christ.

“That’s even worse.”

That dickhead will have her coked out of her mind the second she steps through the door.

Seraphine reaches the door and briefly turns to face me as she slides on her sandals. “And what do you care? Why don’t you call the fucking waitress, huh? I’m sure she’dloveto keep you company.”

By the time she swings the door open, I’m already there, all my bottled-up righteous rage making my hands shake as I hold it open. “Seraphine, I swear to fuck if you walk out of this house?—

“You’ll what, Gideon? Huh?”

“I’m done, Sera. I can’t do this anymore. Aren’t you tired of this? Because I’m fucking exhausted. I’m tired of going to bed angry, tired of arguing, tired of the accusations, tired of having to tip-toe around your fucking paranoia?—