Collared(75)

“And how do you do that, sweetheart?” Mom’s putting on the brave face, but I know she’d still be crying if I wasn’t standing in front of her.

“I don’t know exactly, but if I want to make a new life for myself, I need to move out and find my own place.”

Mom’s eyes widen while Dad swallows.

“Coming back to this house, my bedroom . . . it’s too hard to move on when all I see is my old life here.”

“You just came back, Jade. You’ve never lived on your own,” she says.

“I’ve been on my own for ten years. I can do this.”

“Not right away. Give yourself some time to ease back into the world.” Mom glances around the kitchen like the walls are collapsing around her.

“The longer I stay here, the more time I’m wasting.”

“What about the GED? College?”

“I don’t know yet.” I shake my head. “I just know that I can’t figure any of that out until I’m on my own, able to make my own decisions as the person I am now.”

Dad clears his throat. “When are you thinking you’d like to start looking for your own place, Jade?”

Mom glances at him like she’s heard him wrong.

“As soon as possible,” I answer.

Dad nods. “Okay. Tomorrow we’ll start looking.”

Mom’s eyes close, but she doesn’t argue. I think she knows I need this. She’s just not ready to admit it out loud.

“Thank you,” I breathe.

“And next time your mom and I call you over and over, would you please answer? After what happened to you . . . you can’t just go and not answer when we don’t know where you are.” Dad has to look away. “Please?”

“I won’t,” I promise, feeling guilt gurgle up my throat. “I’m sorry.”

As I make my way through the kitchen to go upstairs, Dad’s head turns. “And you should call Torrin back.”

I stop. That’s the first time Dad has ever suggested I call Torrin back. “I should?”

“He’s been put on temporary suspension.” Dad’s hand settles on his hip. “He could probably use a good friend to talk to right now.”

My tongue works into my cheek. Even when I try to make things right, everything just kind of goes wrong. “They suspended him?”

“Yeah. Temporarily, at least. He’s on some sort of probation.”

“Because of me?”

The room is silent for a moment, then Dad sighs.

I guess it wasn’t really a question. Of course it’s because of me. Of course his life is falling apart because of me. Of course he’s going to suffer because of me. Of course he’s going to lose everything because of me all over again.

My shoulders tremble from what I’m feeling. When I try to keep moving, my feet are stuck in place.

“Are you okay?” Mom’s small voice rolls over me.

I bite my lip, but the honest answer finally wells up from deep inside. “No, I’m not.”





PAGE ONE OF my new life is ready to be written. I have no idea how to start.

Fear has a way of crippling me, making it impossible for me to think or put one foot forward.

I wasn’t scared earlier. When everyone was here helping me get moved in, I didn’t feel fear digging its claws into me the way I feel it now. I didn’t even feel it right after I walked my parents and Sam’s family to the door to say good night.

They were the ones fighting the fear bug then, lingering at the front door, reminding me to call if I needed anything at any hour, confirming they’d be back over after breakfast to finish unpacking. The look on Mom’s face had convinced me she was going to spend the night camped out on my front stoop, but she left. After Dad practically dragged her away.

The fear doesn’t hit me until I start turning off the lights, one by one, around my little apartment. The fear doesn’t find me until darkness casts its veil around me and welcomes me into it.

I focus on my breathing and tell myself I’m safe and there’s nothing to be scared of, but it doesn’t help. The fear only gets worse with every light that switches off.

The apartment is still in Sammamish, in a gated community. My parents even had a security system installed, and Dad pulled me aside before they left to tell me he’d stationed canisters of pepper spray at my front door, back door, kitchen window, nightstand, and in my purse. He’d also propped one of his old bats in the corner of my bedroom. I know he’s just trying to make me feel safe—they all are—but the security system and pepper spray and gates make the world seem more scary, not less.

The apartment is about a thousand square feet, but as it gets darker, it shrinks. First down to half its size, then a quarter, until it’s become a small, dark closet I feel trapped inside of.

My hands tremble as I walk through my new room toward my bed. I’ve set the alarm, double-checked the locks, made sure the stove is off, and turned off the lights. This is what adults do when they go to bed. They don’t break out in a cold sweat and feel like a scream’s crawling up their throat with every dark second that passes.

This is being an adult. The first day in my new life. I knew it would be hard . . . I can handle it. This night will be the hardest. Tomorrow will be easier, and each one after will follow the same trend until I can flip off the lights, crawl into bed, and fall right asleep. Until one day, the dark won’t hold sway over me.