Chapter 3
1363 Words
Chapter 3
“I know I sound ridiculous—”
“Ridiculous doesn’t even begin to cut it, Bee. Where the hell did that come from?”
My voice cracked. Panic slithered beneath my skin, tightening everything; my throat, my lungs, even the rhythm of my heartbeat. My hands trembled uncontrollably.
Isabel noticed instantly. Bless her heart—she always did. She scooted closer, her warm fingers curling gently around my wrist, her thumbs stroking my pulse.
“Hey, hey. Deep breath for me, munchkin. C’mon. In… out. In… out.”
I followed her voice like it was a rope pulling me out of water. In. Out. In. Out. Slowly, the fog around my vision thinned, and my lungs began to cooperate again.
“You okay?” she whispered.
I nodded and licked my dry, patchy lips. “Sorry, I just—”
“It’s fine. I’m the one who sprung it on you like a psychopath.” She winced. “I’m sorry.”
I didn’t argue. Because yes, she did spring it on me. And because her words still spun in my mind like a loose tape: the seriousness in her tone, the fear in her eyes, the way she made me promise not to fall for her father, what the actual f**k?
But beneath all that, I could feel something else…
A sense that she was taking her father’s love life far too personally.
“Why would you want me to move in with you, Bee? Did something happen?” I asked softly.
She sighed, her lips sagging. “Apart from the fact that this place isn’t conducive for you anymore? You live in a freezer, Phina. Your heater hasn’t worked in months, your fridge is empty, and Ann practically whimpers herself to sleep because she’s hungry.” Her eyes softened painfully. “I feel like s**t leaving you here to rot.”
Shame crawled up my neck and burned my cheeks. I pressed my lips together, unable to defend myself.
She continued, quieter this time. “The other reason… and it might sound selfish… but I’m going to need reinforcements.”
My brows knitted. “Reinforcements?”
“If my father actually goes through with this sham of a marriage,” she said, voice thin and trembling, “I cannot stay in that house alone with that woman and her children.” She shook her head. “I… I just can’t.”
Her lip wobbled, and suddenly she looked small. Too small. A vulnerable version of Isabel she rarely let the world see.
I rubbed small circles on her back, my chest softening. Her reasoning made sense. It truly did. And living with her and her father? That was a dream—everything I struggled with would vanish overnight. No rent. No hunger. No fear of Captain breaking out and finishing what he started.
But the thought of living around people, multiple people, made my stomach clench. I didn’t do well with crowds. I had secrets. Big ones. And they were not secrets that Isabel could ever understand.
“Have you thought about moving out and getting your own place?” I asked.
She scoffed. “And leave my father to get manipulated into a seventh divorce? Phina, be serious.”
I blinked. Six divorces. God.
She went on, “If he goes through with this marriage, I have even more reason to stay. I need to watch them. And if I’m sure she’s not going to hurt him, then maybe, maybe, I can leave.”
But she wouldn’t. Isabel was glued to her father. It made me wonder if that was why she always fell for older men, men who reminded her of him. Men she couldn’t save. But I didn’t dare say that out loud. I wasn’t here to judge her.
“I—”
“Just think about it, Phina.”
Her voice broke, and suddenly she was pleading. Isabel never pleaded.
“You won’t have to juggle three jobs anymore. You won’t have to starve. You and Ann won’t look like ghost versions of yourselves. You won’t have to keep looking over your shoulder waiting for Captain to come back and finish what he started.” She swallowed thickly. “My father can get you a job. A good one. Just think about it. What’s the worst that could happen?”
A thousand answers flashed through my mind:
Isabel discovering my secrets.
Her father hating me on sight.
Her father liking me too much.
Me finding something, someone, worth living for.
Losing myself.
Losing her.
So many possibilities. Too many risks.
And still… Isabel had never asked me for anything in seven years. She had always given and given and given, while I had nothing, no money, no strength, no life, to give in return.
But this time she was asking for something, something I would even benefit more from. This time she needed me more than I needed her.
And I was stalling.
“I’ll think about it, Bee.” I whispered. “I promise.”
The days blurred into weeks.
Isabel kept coming over with food, warm takeout boxes, fruits, pastries she claimed she accidentally bought too much of. She’d drop by after work, after class, sometimes even at sunrise just to check if Ann and I had eaten. We talked, we laughed, we gossiped, we argued about shows, and we pretended, both of us, that everything was normal.
But the elephant in the room sat between us every single day, suffocating.
My decision.
It circled my mind like a vulture.
Kept me awake at night.
Made my hands shake so badly I dropped things.
Increased my panic attacks.
Made me smoke more than I had in months.
And still… I had no answer.
By the third week, Isabel stopped pretending.
She barged into my apartment, dumped a giant grocery bag on my counter, placed her hands on her hips and demanded,
“What have you decided, munchkin?”
I swallowed hard.
She stepped closer, her usually bright brown eyes dim and frantic.
“The woman and her children are coming for dinner tomorrow night. Tomorrow. I can’t do this without you.”
And that… that was the moment I decided.
Not because I was ready.
Not because my fears suddenly vanished.
Not because moving into her world didn’t terrify me.
But because Isabel needed me.
And I had never been able to deny her, not once.
I was going to live with my stepsister.
At least until we confirmed whether her father’s soon-to-be wife was a decent human being…
or another monster like our mother and all the women before her.
The decision left my lips quietly, but Isabel reacted like I had announced world peace. Within an hour she had movers crawling all over my tiny apartment. We packed only the essentials, mostly Ann’s things, a few clothes, my cheap books, my two plates, and whatever dignity I had left.
Everything else felt too heavy to carry.
When the last box was sealed, Isabel practically dragged me to her car. My whole body was trembling, my fingers, my lips, even my knees. I was shitting bricks. Meanwhile, Isabel was beaming like the sun.
“We are going to have so much fun,” she purred, grinning from cheek to cheek as she drove. One hand on the wheel, the other lazily playing with Ann’s ears where she sprawled happily across my thighs.
Ann was ecstatic.
Her mood had lifted the moment Isabel walked back into our lives, she ate well again, slept peacefully, even tried to play with shadows on the wall. Today, she wouldn’t stop prancing around the car, her tail flicking wildly.
It was as if she knew we were leaving the shoebox behind.
They were both excited. Radiant. Warm.
But me?
I stared out the window at the passing buildings, my heart thudding painfully against my ribs.
I couldn’t bring myself to share in their excitement.
Not yet.
Not when I had no idea what waited for me in that house.
Not when I didn’t know if I would survive living in a world so much bigger than mine.
- Writer
