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ANE WANTED TO bash her head into the wall. She wanted to rip out her hair, tear down all the posters in her room, and break every piece of expensive china her parents kept in their precious collection.
All because she couldn't figure out the demented, twisted mind of a seventeen-year-old boy with alcohol issues.
Why she kept subjecting herself to the torture that is Fuckshit, she had no idea. Before she met him, her life was so simple, so easy, but now it felt like she couldn't take a breath without preparing for some type of fallout or unforeseen event.
Worst of all, she couldn't even talk to her parents about it. Despite their strict and sometimes harsh nature, they always offered her good, sensible advice when she needed it. How was she supposed to explain that she's been running around with a guy like Fuckshit, sneaking out, and drinking?
How will she explain that she's been breaking every rule they've ever set for her?
Every rule she's ever set for herself?
She could go to Naomi, but she didn't want to bother her best friend with her boy problems. Naomi was someone to rely on when Matthew cheated on her, yes, but that didn't mean every time Ane needed a therapy session she had to rope her friend in it.
The only other option was Ray. He was a good listener and good at giving advice. The only issue was Fuckshit was his best friend. Would he really have her best interest in mind?
She groaned. There was nothing she could do now. It was either talking to someone or keep bottling up her emotions and hitting dead ends. Ray would have to do.
She couldn't talk to him like this though, freshly agitated like a burn on someone's hand. She would need some time. Hours. Days, maybe.
But she couldn't pull another disappearing act like she did last time. It wasn't fair to everyone else. She couldn't involve them in whatever she and Fuckshit had going on just because she was feeling angry.
Hours, then. She needed some hours.
She just hoped Ray wasn't an early sleeper.
The moon shined high in the sky, and the stars were barely visible because of the street lights. She could hear the cicadas outside her window.
Silently, she crept down the stairs and to the main phone. Since it was summer, her parents didn't mind her staying up later than usual, but she still had a bedtime to obey.
