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Mama calls from behind me.
I have nothing on but a shirt and underwear.
But I’m running… running away far from here…
And then I stop?
“Because if I leave her, who will look after her wounds when he hurts her again?” I mumbled.
I hate him. I hate him so much for the hellhole we live in because of him.
“I hate her…I hate her too,” I hissed.
My eyes popped open and I sat up with a start.
The pain in my arms finally registered as I looked down and saw the trails from my nails.Just great, I snarked to myself,kicking the covers down my damp legs, my heart pounding hard in my ears. The residue of the nightmare still clung to my mind, thick like the blood that had dried on my hands that night I hit my father with the chair.
Guilt gripped my insides and soured my stomach.
Mama.
I’d forgotten the anger and disgust I felt for Mama those years. I’d forgiven her long ago. He broke her body and spirit. Still, she loved him, but he just never loved her.
I was shaky on my feet as I went to the bathroom and put some cream on my arm. Reluctantly, I returned to the bed and after a while, I must have fallen asleep—thankfully without any more nightmares—because the next thing I knew, the sky had turned bright with the new day.
The side lamp on the table was still lit. I had not only slept all night, but from the screen on my phone I picked up, it was close to nine in the morning.
Knock. Knock.
“Yes?” I called out.
“Adelina?” It was Patricia’s voice.
“Yes, I’m awake,” I called back and sat up.
“Mrs. Belfiore says get dressed. You have a visitor.”
Icalled back, “Who is it?”
“Your friend, Cassidy Cosgrove.”
My heart leaped, and I let out a squeal. “Oh my God. She didn’t tell me she was coming.” I rushed to clean up, quickly changing into a pullover and jeans, then ran down the stairs. Cassidy’s infectious laugh carried from the living room, and a smile spread across my face as I walked inside. Her wavy blonde head tilted in my direction as she tossed her hair over her shoulder, and I didn’t miss the sparkle of mischief in her big blue eyes.What’s she up to?
Mrs. Belfiore sat beside her with a sourpuss expression, listening to Cass babble about her drive from JFK airport.
“…nonstop traffic, so I stopped for a coffee in Queens, and it took me a half hour to find a parking space. It wasn’t even a good cup, but when I got back in my car, the traffic was still crazy.Then I thought, hey, I have time; why not take a break and swing up here to see Lina? So, here I am.” She bounced on the seat and did a “Tada” with her hands. We knew she lied about swinging by, but I didn’t care. She was here.
“Cass,” I yelled, cheery.
She jumped up from her seat and ran over to me with a scream. We laughed and hugged each other tight. “You didn’t tell me you were coming.”
“Because you would’ve told me it was a bad idea.”
We let go, and she held me at arm’s length. “Oh my God, Lina. You look worn-out. Are you sick?” Her brows knitted.
“I told you she had a cold,” Mrs. Belfiore chirped loudly from her perch on the couch.
I shrugged. “I’m just jet-lagged. I’ll be fine.”