Chapter 21
869 Words
Sara Michaels
The drive home felt longer than it should have. Every red light, every slow car in front of me, every turn I took toward that house made my stomach twist tighter.
Kingsley’s jacket was still around my shoulders, his scent clinging to it like a quiet promise I wasn’t ready to believe. My fingers gripped the wheel so hard my knuckles ached. Tom’s text sat heavy in my mind...cold words on a screen, but they felt like a hand around my throat.
*Where are you? Emily’s hungry. Get home and make something.*
I swallowed hard. The warmth from the café, from Ruby’s laugh, from Kingsley’s near-kiss...it all faded the closer I got to that driveway.
By the time I pulled in, my chest felt hollow again. Empty. Like someone had scooped out everything good and left only fear.
The lights were on in the living room. Too bright. Too harsh.
I killed the engine and sat there for a second, staring at the house like it was a cage I had to walk back into. My phone buzzed again...another text from Tom.
*Now.*
I exhaled shakily. Slipped Kingsley’s jacket off slowly, folded it carefully on the passenger seat like it was something precious.
I couldn’t bring it inside. Not here. Not where Tom could see it. Not where Emily could laugh at it.
I stepped out, closed the door quietly and walked up the steps.
The moment I opened the front door, I felt the anger waiting.
Tom was standing in the middle of the living room. Arms crossed. Jaw clenched so tight I could see the muscle jump.
His shirt was untucked, sleeves rolled, eyes dark and burning.
“You’re late,” he said. Voice low. Dangerous.
I closed the door behind me. Kept my hands at my sides even though they wanted to tremble.
“I… I was out,” I said quietly. “With a friend.”
He stepped closer. Slowly. Like a predator deciding how much to play with its food.
“A friend.” He repeated the word like it tasted bad. “Emily showed me pictures, Sara. You at a club.
With men, laughing, touching and looking like you’re having the time of your life while I’m here dealing with your mother’s bills.”
My stomach dropped.
Pictures. Again!
I shook my head fast. “No. That’s not...I wasn’t at any club. I was with Ruby. At the café. I swear, Tom. I didn’t...”
“Stop lying.” His voice rose sharply and cutting. “Emily showed me. Clear as day. You with some guy, arms around him, smiling like you never smiled for me. You think I’m stupid?”
I took a step back. My back hit the door.
“I’m not lying. I was with Ruby. We talked. That’s all. Please, Tom… believe me.”
He laughed—short, bitter, cruel.
“Believe you?” He stepped closer again. Close enough that I could smell the whiskey on his breath. “You’re a w***e, Sara. Always were. I just didn’t see it until now.”
The word hit like a slap.
Before I could speak, his hand came up.
Fast and hard.
The back of it cracked across my cheek.
Pain exploded so hot in the worst way. My head snapped to the side. I tasted blood.
I stumbled. Legs gave out. I fell to my knees on the cold marble.
Tears blurred my vision instantly.
Tom towered over me.
“I don’t tolerate sluts in my house,” he said, voice low and venomous. “You want your mother’s treatment to continue? Then you stay in line. You cook. You clean. You shut your mouth. One more stunt like this..one more picture, one more late night...and I pull every cent. I let her die. Understand?”
I stared at the floor. Tears dripping onto the marble. Mixing with the blood from my lip.
I nodded.
Because what else could I do?
“Please,” I whispered. “Don’t… don’t stop the treatment. She’s all I have.”
He looked down at me—kneeling, bleeding, begging.
For one second something flickered in his eyes. Something almost like guilt. Almost like the old Tom who used to hold me when I cried.
But it vanished. He turned away.
“Get up,” he said coldly. “Clean yourself. And make Emily something to eat. She’s waiting.”
He walked upstairs.
I stayed on my knees for a long moment with tears falling and blood on my lip.
My chest was aching so deep it hurt to breathe.
But somewhere under the pain..under the fear, under the humiliation...something burned.
I wiped my face with the back of my hand.
Stood up slowly and walked to the kitchen and started cooking.
Because Mom needed me to.
Because I wasn’t ready to lose her. But inside..deep inside..I promised myself something.
One day. One day soon.
I would stop begging, bleeding and kneeling and Tom McCarthy would be the one on his knees.
Begging me For forgiveness he’d never get.
I turned on the stove.
And let the flame catch.
"Hurry up Sara, Tommy and I are starving...!" Emily pout her lip.
- Writer
