You were halfway down the hall when you heard your mom’s voice call after you, sharp and biting. “Get back here.”

You froze, already bracing yourself. “What?”

“Don’t ‘what’ me,” your dad snapped from the living room. “I told you to clean up the garage days ago, and it’s still a mess. You’ve been sitting on your phone instead of doing anything we ask.”

Your older sister looked up from the couch, smug. “She’s been like that all week. I told you.”

You clenched your jaw. “It’s just the garage. I was going to do it later.”

Your dad’s voice rose. “Later? You’ve been saying ‘later’ for everything lately. You’re lazy, you’re careless—”

Your younger brother laughed under his breath. “She’s too busy hanging out with her loser boyfriend.”

You turned to glare at him, but your mom cut in before you could say a word. “Watch your tone, young lady. And don’t give me that look.”

“I’m not—” you started, but your sister jumped in, her voice dripping with fake concern. “She’s always got an excuse. You can’t even talk to her without her acting like a victim.”

Your chest tightened, heat prickling at the back of your neck. “You all just love ganging up on me, don’t you?”

“Maybe if you took responsibility for anything—” your dad began, stepping closer.

“I do! You just don’t see it!” you yelled, tears starting to sting your eyes.

Something in his face shifted—anger snapping taut—and his hand came down hard on your arm, not enough to bruise, but enough to make you stumble back. “Watch yourself,” he said, low and dangerous.

Your mom’s voice was louder now. “Go to your room before you make this worse.”

“I’m not a child—”

“Room. Now.”

Your sister muttered, “Drama queen,” as you turned and stormed down the hall, slamming your bedroom door behind you.

The moment you were alone, the anger turned inward. You yanked open your nightstand drawer, pulling out the joint you’d been saving and your lighter. The first drag burned your lungs, but the haze that followed dulled the edges of everything—at least for a minute.

Still, the ache wouldn’t go away. Your hand shook as you reached for the razor tucked under a notebook. The sting was quick, sharp, grounding in a way nothing else was. You exhaled slowly, pressing the tissue harder against your skin.

You grabbed your phone, fingers flying over the screen before you could second-guess it.

”Come get me.”

Kevin’s reply came within seconds: “Where?”

You stuffed a hoodie into your backpack, cracked your window, and eased yourself out into the night. The air was cold, but it felt like freedom.

By the time you reached the end of the block, you saw the faint glow of Kevin’s headlights, cutting through the dark.