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Tick.
You don’t actually live here.
Tock.
You just pretend like you do.
Tick.
Ken loves nothing.
Tock.
You knew it right from the start.
Beep! Beep! Beep! Beep!
I rolled over and smacked the alarm clock, wiping an angry, embarrassed tear from my cheek with the side of my hand.
And now, time’s up.
I got up and sprinted for the bathroom. I couldn’t get away from there fast enough. From Ken. From that house. From the lie I’d been living in.
I got ready for school in a haphazard flurry, using the few products I had in my purse and the ones I’d stashed under Ken’s sink. I pulled my purplish mop with two inches of auburn roots up into a messy bun and didn’t even bother with my signature wing-tip eyeliner. There was no point. It would be running down my face by the time I got to school anyway.
With my combat boots still untied, I bolted down the stairs, grabbed my backpack off the floor by the couch, and took off out the front door without so much as a good-bye.
I was pretty sure the window-rattling slam had said it for me.
