Between The Lines

Chapter 115: Falling

Third Person:

The days stretched on, painfully quiet and hollow. Rebecca had done exactly what she'd promised. She and Lane cut each other off completely, the tension between them now thick and suffocating in the air. It was as if the world had shifted on its axis, and nothing felt right anymore.

School was the only place they saw each other now, and even then, it was like they were ghosts. Lane avoided her gaze during lessons, his jaw tight, his body rigid as though he was forcing himself to stay distant. And she... she couldn't bear to look at him either. Every time she did, all the words they had said in that last conversation echoed in her mind, and the ache in her chest returned, sharper than ever.

At home, things were even worse. Her dad had always been difficult, but ever since the night she ran away and came back, it felt like something had snapped in him. He wasn't just angry anymore. He was furious. And it was constant, like every little thing she did sparked some kind of rage inside him.

It started small at first—yelling, throwing things around, his temper flaring over the smallest mistakes. But it escalated quickly. If she came home a minute late, he would be waiting at the door, fists clenched, his face twisted in fury. If she said something back, even the smallest bit of sarcasm, his hand would lash out, striking her across the face before she even had a chance to react.

The first time it happened, she had been too stunned to speak, the sting of his hand still burning on her cheek. She had never thought it would go that far, but it had. And now, it was happening more often.

Rebecca stared at herself in the bathroom mirror, her fingertips brushing the faint bruise on her cheekbone, the reminder of last night's argument still fresh. She had said something—she didn't even remember what—and her dad had lost it. The slap had been quick, hard, and then he'd stormed out, leaving her standing there, frozen in shock.

She hadn't cried. She refused to let herself cry over it. Not anymore.

But today, it was getting harder to hold it all together. She felt like she was unraveling, slowly, piece by piece. The weight of everything—her dad, school, Lane—it was suffocating her, pressing down on her chest until it hurt to breathe.

Her mom was barely around, working late shifts, and when she was home, she seemed to turn a blind eye to everything. As if she didn't want to admit what was happening under their own roof. Maybe she was too tired to care, or maybe she was just pretending it wasn't real. Either way, Rebecca was left to fend for herself.

She swallowed hard, turning away from the mirror. She couldn't think about it anymore. She didn't have time. School was starting in less than an hour, and she had to be there. Had to pretend that everything was fine, that she wasn't falling apart at the seams.

Rebecca grabbed her bag and headed downstairs, her heart pounding as she passed the living room where her dad sat, already nursing his morning drink. She hated the way he looked at her now—like she was the cause of all his problems. Like she was nothing but a disappointment.

"Going to school?" His voice was cold, biting.

Rebecca nodded, keeping her gaze fixed on the floor. "Yeah."

"Better not be late this time," he growled. "Or you'll regret it."

She didn't say anything, just gripped her bag tighter and hurried out the door, the familiar knot of fear tightening in her stomach. Every day was like walking on eggshells, waiting for him to explode again.

The bus ride to school felt endless, her thoughts a mess of tangled emotions. She wanted to text someone, maybe Charlotte or one of her other friends, but what would she even say? She wasn't ready to admit what was happening at home, not even to herself.