Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
The gentle hum of hair dyers filled the salon, mingling with the chatter of clients and hairstylists. I sat at the receptionist's desk, my head buried in my textbook as I tried to focus on the algebra problems that seemed to blur together. No matter how hard I tried, the numbers danced on the page, my mind drifting back to thoughts I'd rather forget.
"So you going to tell me what's been bothering you this past week?" I hear Diamond's voice breaking me out of my concentration, pulling me into the present. "I know you, Sparkle. Something's been off for days."
Looking up from my schoolwork, I let out a deep sigh. Of course, my best friend would be the one to confront me about why I wasn't acting like myself.
"There's too many ears listening in here." I murmured in Mandarin, the words slipping out before I could stop myself making her gaze soften.
"Come on, let's talk in the breakroom." she said, and I nodded, following her into the small, dimly lit breakroom tucked away in the back of the salon.
As soon as the door closed behind us, I leaned against it, trying to collect my thoughts. Diamond leaned against the counter, her arms still crossed, but her expression was more concerned than confrontational.
"Ever since a few nights ago, I've been stuck haunted by memories I never wanted to remember," I start my voice barely a whisper."The boys—Dom, Vince, Brian, and Jesse...they woke me up at 1 am and brought along with them to sneak into Johnny's garage a few nights ago."
Just saying Johnny's name made my stomach twist.
"Wait what?" Diamond says her eyes widening in disbelief. "They know you have avoided that side of town since you broke up with him."
"They needed my help because I knew the place like the back of my hand. But just—being in that garage brought back memories, that I tried to bury." I say looking up at her, feeling the weight of every word.
"Of you and Johnny." she says her gaze softening and her arms dropping to her side. "You never really told us the full extent of your relationship with him."
I took a deep breath, the memories flooding back like a tidal wave. "I told you he was possessive, but I never explained how far it went. He would grab me—my arms, my neck, even my thighs—hard enough to purposely leave bruises. No one knew because I wore baggy clothes or covered them with makeup."
