I didn’t know how much time had passed, but just as I reached the bedroom door, I saw Jeremiah standing there as if he’d been waiting.
He grabbed my wrist sharply.
“Lainey, can you show a shred of shame?”
“Didn’t I tell you to go turn yourself in? Or are you really going to wait for the police to drag you away?”
But as he caught sight of the wounds on my body, his voice faltered.
A flicker of conflict and hesitation clouded his face.
I shook off his hand and replied calmly, “I’m a cripple. How could I possibly hurt anyone?”
Jeremiah’s face darkened, clearly seconds away from erupting. But his phone rang.
He turned away to answer it, teeth clenched, while I quietly slipped back into my room.
I wrapped myself tightly in the blanket, curling into the cold silence.
Over and over, I whispered in my heart. Just one more day. Just one more.
Just as I was about to drift into a dazed sleep, Jeremiah suddenly yanked me out from under the blanket. This time, his eyes blazed with fury as he stared at me.
"Lainey, are you trying to die!?"
"You actually went and tattled to my mom again. You really are shameless, anything to become Mrs. Ross, huh?"