Blair O'Connor was the life of every party-popular, fearless, and always the center of attention. But behind the perfect image was an abusive boyfriend who slowly stripped away the girl she used to be.
After finally breaking free, Blair transfers...
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June 19th 2002
The house was empty. It didn't happen often, but when it did, it was nice. A quiet kind of nice. Auntie Trish was out with her friends, Uncle Tony was working late, and Aoife was pulling another shift at work. That left just me and Connor, and I was trying to enjoy it, even though he'd been acting weird again.
We were supposed to be hanging out like usual, but he'd been glued to his phone for the last hour, barely saying two words to me. I was on the floor sorting through a pile of old CDs I found in the garage. I thought it might be fun to play some music, maybe liven things up, but Connor was in one of his moods.
"Hey, remember this one?" I held up a CD case, showing him a band we used to listen to all the time last year. "We should play it."
Connor barely glanced up, just grunted. "No one listens to that stuff anymore, Blair."
I lowered the CD, "I still like it."
He sighed heavily, tossing his phone onto the sofa beside him and running his hand through his hair. "Yeah, well, you're not exactly with it, are you?"
I blinked, caught off guard. "What's that supposed to mean?"
Connor didn't answer right away. Instead, he got up from the sofa and walked over to where I was sitting on the floor, looming over me. His shadow stretched across the room, and for a second, the space between us felt smaller than it should've been.
"I don't know, Blair," he said, his voice suddenly sharp. "It just means you're still stuck in your little kid world. You don't get how things are now."
A knot tightened in my stomach. I hated when he talked to me like that, like he was so much older. "I'm not a kid," I said, my voice smaller than I wanted it to be.
He rolled his eyes, stepping over the mess of CDs on the floor. "Whatever. You act like one."
His words stung more than they should have. I stood up, trying to get my feet under me, trying to shake off the feeling creeping up the back of my neck. "Why are you being like this?"
Connor was close now, too close. He shrugged, but his jaw was tight. "Maybe I wouldn't be if you weren't so annoying all the time."
I flinched, stepping back, feeling the edge of the coffee table dig into my hip. My heart thudded in my chest, a dull pulse that made my skin feel too tight. "I'm not—"
"Yeah, you are." His voice was colder now, like a switch had flipped. "You always want to talk, always want to do something. Can't you just shut up for once?"
I stared at him, my mouth going dry. I didn't understand. He'd never been like this, not really. Sometimes he'd get mad, but this—this was different. And I didn't know why.
"I didn't mean to—"
Before I could finish, he moved too quickly, like he was about to grab the CD from my hand. But I flinched, stepping back too fast, and the next thing I knew, I felt something slam against the side of my face. I didn't even see it happen. It was just a blur of his fist, or his arm, maybe. I couldn't tell.
