Callie’s POV
I pulled the covers over myself, staring at the doorknob, my heart racing.
I cursed my mother for bringing men into the house. Every one of her “boyfriends” was a danger to me, which was why I always kept a double lock on my door, sneaked to the bathroom, and avoided even looking at them. Because I knew them all—every single one of them. I knew them very well. It only took seeing the first one to understand what they were all like: always drunk, lazy, waiting to latch onto my mother just to have someone to share their addiction with, so they wouldn’t feel so alone in their miserable lives. Until the day they got tired of her—or she got tired of them—they would fight over the most trivial things, always sparked by the lack of alcohol, and that was it. Goodbye. End of story. M
