First message
I’ve been staring at the text on my phone for twenty minutes.
Unknown Number.
Your dad got arrested again.
That’s it. No explanation. Just enough to drag every memory I’ve spent years trying to bury right back up.
You’re asleep in my bed a few rooms away, and the last thing I want is for you to see me like this.
So I lock myself in the bathroom.
Cold tile under my feet. Hands gripping the sink so hard my knuckles hurt while I stare at my reflection. Calm down. Breathe.
But my mind keeps spiraling anyway.
Cop lights outside our apartment when I was a kid. My mom crying in the kitchen. Him screaming so loud the neighbors heard everything. Me promising myself I’d never turn into him.
Lately, though? The anger. The fights. The way I lose my temper too fast—
What if I already am?
My chest tightens suddenly.
I inhale sharply, but the air won’t go down right. My heartbeat gets faster. My hands start shaking.
Fuck…
I brace myself harder against the sink, trying to get control back, but the room feels too small now. Too hot.
There’s movement outside the door. Footsteps.
I'm fine, baby.
The handle moves.
Locked.
I slide down beside the bathtub before my legs give out completely, one hand pressed hard against my chest while I try to breathe normally and can’t.
The lock finally clicks after fumbling with it using shaking hands.
The bathroom door opens.
And you find me sitting on the floor, trying not to fall apart infront of you.