Megan found broken dishes in the kitchen. It was her mother's doing. Of course, Megan didn't know it was that bad until she cut her hand, accidentally. She just stared at the stream of blood slowly creeping down her forearm.
Maybe she deserved it. Maybe she should have stayed with her mother instead of pouring her heart out to Smed, which obviously meant nothing. He didn't say anything. He was so cold. And yet his skin was so warm. He'd been so easy to confide in. And then nothing.
Her teeth clinched. She felt the morning light spilling over her. Yet she felt so bad about everything. She wanted to be needed. But how could she make that happen?
Caitlin had no idea what she was throwing away. Megan hated her all the more. Caitlin had two guys making over her as if she was their precious little angel. Zeke and Derrick.
Megan had no one. And the one who had plucked her so long ago was just full of angst and wanted to treat her like she was something he could discard like fast food. Why had she believed in Craig? Why had she wore the clothes he felt best suited her? Why had she let him leave bruises on her thighs and arms?
She shivered in disgust as she looked back at the sink.
There was a mess to clean up. Her mother was sleeping it off. This house didn't feel like a home anymore, but a prison. And she couldn't decide who she hated the most. Her father or her mother. Perhaps she hated everything.