Forgotten

Chapter 2

Chapter Title: "Collisions"

I stood in front of the mirror and looked myself over. I was ready for school. Honestly, I couldn’t wait to leave this house—but for now, I had to make sure everything about my appearance was perfect. I didn’t want another round of what happened last night.

My socks were pulled up to just below my knees, my skirt ended modestly above them. My crisp white shirt was tucked in neatly, and I wore a tank top underneath to keep my bra from showing. My blazer was lint-free, my hair was tied up neatly, and I only had on some mascara and lip gloss.

I took a deep breath before heading downstairs for breakfast.

Another reason I don’t gain weight is that I skip a lot of meals at home. I would’ve liked to skip this one, but after a fight, if I avoid a meal, Lyssa twists it into an admission of guilt. That only gives my father more reason to "improve my behavior."

If I come in late, he sets a curfew. If I wear too much makeup, he takes it away. If my clothes are “too slutty,” he orders new, ill-fitting replacements. The list goes on.

I made my way to the dining room. Breakfast had already been served. I was late—not ideal.

My father sat at the head of the table. Lyssa, of course, was to his left. My place? The far opposite end.

Lyssa had ordered it this way after one of our arguments, telling my father I had asked to be seated far from him because of his “smothering behavior.” He believed her.

When I told him it wasn’t true, he said it sounded like something I’d say. The next time I tried sitting closer, he told me to stay where I was—“before you get smothered.” I never tried again.

At least here, I didn’t have to make small talk. I could eat in silence—unless Lyssa had other plans, which I suspected she did. Last night had been too easy.

I peeled my boiled egg.

She made a habit of picking foods she knew I disliked. It was bait, and I’d fallen for it once when they served lasagna. I couldn’t eat it. I just didn’t like it. That refusal had caused one of our worst fights. I was labeled ungrateful, and she spun it into more lies about me “watching my weight.” My father had blamed it on grief—said I’d changed after my mother died. But I hadn’t. He just stopped knowing me.

No one spoke during breakfast. I waited for Lyssa to launch an attack, but maybe I hadn’t given her any ammunition yet. Or maybe she was just waiting for me to leave.

One thing was clear: I couldn’t go home this afternoon.

I finished eating and went upstairs to grab a change of clothes, then headed out to where the driver waited.

I searched dor a place to go after school. I needed something more substantial than coffee and a pastry—somewhere quiet, since I planned to write my review from yesterday and skip dinner.

I finally found a place near the docks that looked promising. Satisfied, I pocketed my phone and stared out the window the rest of the way to school.

The driver dropped me off just outside the school parking lot. I grabbed my bag and walked in.

This is an Elite school for the wealthy. Oddly enough, arriving with a driver made you seem more spoiled—like you were too precious to even drive yourself. I preferred people thinking I walked or parked already.

I saw Liara heading into the building and hurried to catch up. She was at her locker when I reached her.

“Hey, Lia!” I said, a little out of breath.

“Hey, Alysson,” she replied warmly.

“So, do you have any plans for this afternoon? I found this really cute, quiet place to eat near the docks. Good food, fresh air, the works,” I said as she pulled books from her locker.

“I can’t today, I’m sorry,” she said. “That tutor’s coming—the one helping me with mock entrance essays. My parents want me to get a head start. They’re afraid I won’t get a scholarship, which means I can’t go to a top-tier university.”

Her family’s loving, but the pressure on her is intense. They even took out loans to get her into this school. You need to be invited here if your family isn’t wealthy.

My father paid for the school’s air conditioning system—Liara earned her place by being top of her grade in public school, joining three extracurriculars, and proving herself. Once she was invited, her parents still had to pay half the tuition—$27,500 up front. That’s a lot for them.

“I get it. I’ll go by myself,” I said.

“Did something happen?” she asked as we walked to my locker.

“Yeah, another fight last night. And breakfast this morning was too quiet. That means she’s planning something.”

“I’ve told you—record her,” she said. “Next time she’s rude, just start a voice memo. Then show your dad.”

She had told me before, but I just couldn’t. As awful as Lyssa was, exposing her would also ruin what little peace my father had. He’s happy—for now.

If he realized what kind of person he married, it’d destroy him. And it wouldn’t fix things between us. He’d just feel guilty. He already distanced himself from me when he started dating after Mom died. I wish he had kept Lyssa a secret forever.

“No, I don’t think I can do that. Karma will catch up to her eventually. One day, my dad will see who she really is.”

“You have too much faith in the universe,” Liara said. “You’re his blood. She’s just someone he married. Don’t forget—you were there first.”

We reached class and took our assigned seats. The day passed quickly.

Later, I changed into my favorite outfit: ripped black skinny jeans, a loose green sweater, and heeled ankle boots. Tight bottoms and oversized tops were my go-to.

I met the driver and gave him the address. He dropped me at a tourist lot near the docks. I told him I’d make my own way home.

The restaurant was tucked away, hardly any signage, which was a shame—it could do well in such a tourist-rich area.

Inside, I ordered a cooldrink and chose sea bass sashimi, tempura hake, and crème brûlée. I wanted everything at once to avoid distractions. I set up my laptop and got to work.

The place was dimly lit, warm, and welcoming. It reminded me of family dinners with my mom. It felt like home.

After eating, I paid and walked toward the shuttle stop. I planned to take one back toward town and grab a taxi home.

The ocean air was refreshing. I hadn’t been to the beach in forever. I should plan something with Liara and a few others—sand, waves, laughter. I missed it.

Lost in thought, I slammed into someone.

Hard.

I hit the ground, elbows catching me just in time. My breath whooshed out. I looked up—tall, dark curly hair, and eyes impossibly blue.

Too bad he was scowling.

“Can’t you watch where you’re going? You made me spill coffee all over myself!”

His rudeness shattered any hint of attraction.

“Hey! We bumped into each other. It takes two to collide. And honestly, I think I got the worst of it—I’m on the ground.”

He didn’t offer a hand, so I pushed myself up. Pain flared in my ankle. He must’ve noticed because he finally helped me to my feet.

“Damn. I really loved this sweater,” I muttered, noticing the rip at my elbow.

“Big deal. It’s not like you can’t afford another one.”

I stared at him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You look like a spoiled little rich girl. Daddy’ll buy you a new one. Maybe a hundred.”

“Excuse me? You don’t know me!”

“Don’t need to. It’s obvious.”

I yanked my arm from his and scanned the area. “Did you see my laptop bag?”

He pointed. “That one?” It had tumbled down to the lower dock, nearly in the water.

I sighed.

“I’ll get it. Wouldn’t want you to break a nail, princess.” He hopped down, retrieved the bag, and climbed back up.

I opened it. My laptop screen was twisted, the glass cracked.

“It’s broken.”

“That my fault? You were daydreaming.”

“I didn’t say it was your fault.” I turned to leave.

“I’ll pay for the repairs.”

“No thanks. I don’t want anything from you.”

“What? Is my money not good enough?”

I froze. “Seriously? Where did you get that idea?” He glanced at his own worn jeans and stained shirt.

“Whatever. Daddy will cover it.”

“I’m done,” I said and turned to walk away—just in time to see the last shuttle pulling away.

“No, no, no!” I tried running after it.

“What now?” he asked, catching up.

“I was supposed to be on that shuttle!”

“Call your driver or your dad.”

“It’ll take them an hour. I’ll be late again. Another fight at home. Another punishment. You don’t get it!” He looked surprised at my outburst.

“I came here to clear my head, to work, and now... I’ll get blamed for being late. Again.”

“I could give you a ride,” he offered, surprisingly soft. I hesitated. I should say no. For all I knew, he could be a serial killer. But the idea of going home late? Not worth the risk.

“I’d appreciate that,” I said reluctantly.

“Follow me.” He led me to a black motorcycle and handed me a helmet.

“Don’t tell me you’re scared of bikes. I guess you’re just used to sitting in the back of some posh car.” I snatched the helmet from him.

He laughed.