heeks bloom with color. "You scared me today," she sa

ry. But I'm not your damn father, K

not abo

like your parents did. Lord knows you dragged me to enough fuckin

is bouncing up and down, up and down, and the

e does

mire

up now," she

d then what, Kinsley?

ere new. Somewhere fa

have, Kinsley?" he asks viciously. "No friends, no family.

, I admi

o inte

h really hears me. Kinsley gasps and makes a flailing grab for the phone, but the attempt

o another, let me sa

It stretches on for a few long breaths bef

ll is this?

about Kinsley.

fuck? Wh

an Kinsley is m

tely back between us. She stares at it fo

you just did that. H

fiancé; he's your ex-fiancé. You ran out on him, remember? Because he hit y

e timelapse of a flower wilting. Chin falls, face fal

n towards the floorboards. "He didn't

tart justifying it now, you'll spend the rest of your life justifying everything he ever does to you.

on whistles out of ever

growing short, and we can't stay here fo

y. "You can get

lly have

ys have a

ll be aiding and abetti

ery good story starts with a leap

she looks up at me, I see the determi

car down the dirt pat

ay if they catch

oom. And you're in the market for a new on

NS

ke a groom," I remark, sur

Rough, too. Callused and veiny, covered in grit and small scars like

look like

on th

eyes. "Fuck

uh

k like what I a

r we were driving to our honeymoon. We were supposed to leave after the ceremony. Any

like they're seeing stuff I never meant to show him. Then he nods,

pens the trunk. I hear the double pop of the suitca

he starts to unbutton his shirt. The first slices of his ches

thick green vein winding through. He undoes the buckle of his pants, sta

I could swear I hear an amused chuckle, althou

d, the crunch of boots on gravel, and then the driver's door opening

up in a way that is somehow inexplicably stylish. The fabric clings to him like a second skin. I can

I mumble un

e slides behind the wheel

hat?"

y, "we decide what we'r

anic. "You... you said

tic. I was talking

e pocket mirror on the surface. My face st

g at me. Sweat, makeup, tears, and flecks of blood have caked together to form a gro

k. But also because the outsides match the insides. This stran

e of a "take your pick" kind of deal. Ther

k terr

e before it. I'm so wrapped up in self-pity that I don't see

just sighs, grips my chin a

d st

f wet wipes. Then he brings one to my face and starts drawing it

e result of a series of harsh realizations and bad choices. This is the face of a desperate woman who decided she