I sat on the edge of the bed, my hands gripping the soft duvet until my knuckles turned white.
I was trying so hard not to cry, but the tears were burning the back of my eyes.
I hated this. I hated how he spoke to me.
Downstairs, he had looked at me like I was a monster.
All I did was take his son to the mall. We bought ice cream ans some toys. We laughed. Is that a crime? Is making a little boy smile a bad thing?
"I am not a monster," I whispered to the empty room.
I wanted to pack my bags and run away. But I couldn't. I was trapped.
Suddenly, I heard heavy footsteps coming down the hallway.
I froze because it was Luca.
The footsteps stopped right outside my bedroom door and I held my breath. Part of me wanted to jump up, lock the door, and scream at him to go away. I wanted to
