Celeste

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” My mother screamed at me as she slammed my bedroom door shut.

I froze, my heart racing.

“It’s been two weeks,” she continued, her voice shaking with pure rage. “Two weeks! I’ve wanted to talk to you, but that bastard Jace keeps making excuses to keep you away from me.”

She walked toward me slowly, like a predator approaching its prey.

Why? Why did I insist on coming to my room to shower this morning? I should have ...