Page 12 of Knot So Social

“So, what am I meant to do?” I grumble as I pull up at the stop lights.

The world keeps telling me to squeeze myself into a hole I’m the wrong shape for. Where’s the passion, the living larger than life? We live in Texas, for fuck’s sake, where everything’s supposed to be bigger.

The lights go green. Huffing under my breath to expel the creeping disappointment, I drop the accelerator.

A shadow looms in my window. Shiny chrome grill, a flash of bright red. The world crunches in around me and spins, a tornado of debris engulfing me. Metal shrieks as it bends and glass fragments shower my face. The seatbelt yanks across my chest, knocking the breath from my lungs. A second, louder crash booms in my ears.

But the light was green. I know I saw green.

That thought keeps tumbling through my brain as the world rights itself. Well, almost, just tilted instead of spinning. The truck’s nose points up, frozen in time. I ended up on the barrier.

Wheezing, I unclick my seatbelt and heave on my door. Metal creaks in protest as I force it out into the open sky before climbing up to the opening. I half-fall, half clamber out onto the road. Emergency lights flash everywhere and cars further back in the line honk, not realizing the entire intersection’s a metal hailstorm.

A van lies on its side nearby, wheels spinning. Half the cab’s buckled in like a giant fist punched it. My stomach sinks as I turn to look behind me. The same fist crumpled the passenger side of my baby.

“Glory,” I mutter, shaking my head.

Maybe now’s the moment to be grateful I’m alive, but the emergency isn't over yet. On stumbling feet, I race toward the van, and the sedan piled up in its ass. Bread and plastic bakers’ trays spill out over the second car, bizarrely out of place in the middle of the road.

“Hey!” I call, choking on my words. “You all right?”

The van door swings open, and a man falls to the pavement, moaning. Alive and semi-mobile, at least. I lean one hand on the white van’s sides, the metal oddly hot. What about the sedan?

A man helps a woman out of the secondary wreck, and she’s shaking and crying.

I swing back, the whole scene now laid out before me. An odd ringing buzzes in my ears as I run a hand through my sweat-gelled hair, and my words from a minute ago roll through the noise like a backtrack. Just you and me now, baby.

No, just me.

My favorite hat sits in the middle of the intersection, crumbled and covered in window glass. Tremors run up through my thighs as I stumble over to pick it up. I brush the shards off, but rubber and grease marks stain the brown leather and half the brim caves in, dangling like a broken branch.

My legs give way and I drop on my ass right there on the asphalt. Spots of rain plink on my skin as the heavens open. Maybe black cats are unlucky after all.

I look up to let the droplets fall on my face. No job, no car. And a twin brother who avoids me like the plague.

What the fuck am I going to do now?

Chapter four

Willow

I’m such a fool. I let my guard down and exposed my flaws in front of a stranger. I drum my fingers into my thigh as I lean on the window frame, staring out at the backyard. Rain mists the window, blurring the trimmed green lawns and trees beyond. At least there’s no thunder today—that would really ruin my day. Rain, hail, wind; none of them matter because I never go outside.

But just as I stay in my carefully contained box, so should my secrets. My shame.

If my viewers find out I’m so broken, they’ll crucify me.

I sigh and push away from the cold vista. Might need another coffee to piece my focus back together. I need to be working, but instead I’m restless, shivery inside. The office feels wrong, my desk is too rigid, and my office chair just isn’t cutting it.

An old voice oozes through my memories. “You can’t hide your flaws, Willow. You’re lucky we took you in, you know? But don’t worry, we don’t mind. We’ll take care of you now. In fact, how about you drop out of school, so we can take better care of you?”

Back then, it sounded like I’d found something wonderful. Instead, they were my slippery path to destruction. And even though it’s been ten years, I still can’t shake the poisonous knowledge that I’m not good enough.

Mr Shares studies me from his basket, rope toy abandoned.

I limp out through the office’s French doors to the open area. The picture frames holding the weather maps from the two days my life went up in smoke hang crooked. Did Alessandro bump them when he poked around?

I can’t shake the mental mirage of the concern on his face as he stared down at me. Of all the freaking reactions, I just had to throw myself on the ground and scream like a possessed cat. I thought I was getting better with loud noises?