Your Tutor

Chapter Nineteen

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Maylee Lych
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School passed by pretty smoothly. I passed my test, and Brooks got a B on his chemistry test. I know he can do better than that—as much as he doesn't want to show it, I know he's a smart kid. So I badgered him about it for a while before finally telling him he did a good job. He's improving, and that's good. I'd rather him get better instead of staying the same. But he has been skipping out on tutoring because his practice schedule is becoming more and more frequent. I can't hate it, but I really wish he'd take school as a higher priority sometimes.

But I'm now getting ready for Daylon's seventh birthday party. I love the kid to death, and I'm excited to get to see him again. Along with Adeline and her husband. I invited Forest as my plus one. I'm not sure why, but I thought it would be nice. He's on his way. Which will leave me alone in the apartment for another ten or so minutes because Cameron already left to go get Mackai.

I finish getting dressed a minute or two later. Next is my shoes, but my phone starts ringing before I can do it. I walk over, rubbing my nose with the back of my hand. It's a number I don't recognize, but I answer because it might be an administrator calling about my schedule for next year. Which I've been waiting on for what feels like forever now.

"Hello?" I say, pressing my phone to my ear.

"Hi, is this Maylee Lych?" a lady, who sounds a little too chipper, asks.

I furrow my brows, looking out my window. "It is. Who's this?"

"This is Monica from California State Prison." Prison... "Your father, Jeremy Rotowel Lych, got released on bail this morning. I was giving you a call to let you know if you didn't. Neither your name nor your brothers, was signed off on it. It was a Wesley Warns who signed it."

I snap my eyes closed and drop my phone. Oh, God. Oh, my God. Ohmygod. Tears brim in my eyes and I can feel the undeniable fear creep up into every nerve of my body. He can't be released. I can't be here. He's going to find me and he's going to hurt me, and I can not handle being hit anymore.

I sit on the ground, tucking my knees to my chest, crying silently. I'm not sure what to do. What should I do?

My mind blurs—or maybe it's just the tears in my eyes. I'm in no state to think as my cries wreck through me harder. It hurts. My heart is clenching tight in my chest. I'm breathing quicker, and my head is suddenly feeling light. I'm dizzy. I want to throw up. I can't do this.

I want...

Quick sharp breaths hit my lungs at an unnatural pace.

My list.

One slow, deep breath.

Point out something red.

Another slow, deep breath.

Point out something orange.

Do it until you have pointed out all the colors of the rainbow.

But I can't. Because I'm alone. Cameron usually does it with me. And after she will do everything in her power to make me laugh, or simply just smile. She will keep engaging in conversation with me to ensure that I don't go silent—which I usually do because it allows me to think, but only for the price of becoming overly sensitive to every sound. I get pissy after an attack.

I choke on a sob, wiping my eyes. Everything is throbbing with pain. Both physical and emotional.

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Forest Brooks
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