A Gentle Collision

Chapter 26

Monday mornings always felt lighter. Freen’s father was gone by dawn, off to wherever his work called him, leaving the house eerily quiet but blessedly free of his overbearing presence. She could finally breathe, though the walls of the house still held the memories of his cold stares and cutting words.

By noon, there was a knock at the door. Freen’s heart lifted as she opened it to find Becky standing there, her hands tucked casually into the pockets of her hoodie, that ever-present mischievous grin lighting up her face.

“Hey, you,” Becky greeted, stepping inside without waiting for an invitation. “Figured you could use some company.”

Freen rolled her eyes but smiled, the weight in her chest easing as Becky’s presence filled the room. “You figured right. Let’s get out of here.”

Before long, they were at Becky’s house—a place that always felt like a world away from Freen’s own. It was warm, lived-in, and welcoming, filled with the faint scent of vanilla and the sound of quiet laughter. Becky’s mother, a kind woman with a perpetual smile, was already in the kitchen making pancakes.

“Freen, you’re just in time!” Becky’s mother called out, placing a plate of golden pancakes on the table. “I made extras just for you.”

“Thank you,” Freen said softly, her cheeks coloring at the warmth in the older woman’s voice. She sat down, and Becky joined her, snagging a pancake straight off the plate before her mother could swat her hand away.

“Becky!” her mother scolded, but her tone was playful.

Becky grinned, popping a piece of pancake into her mouth. “What? It’s a compliment to the chef!”

Freen laughed, the sound light and unburdened for the first time in days. She couldn’t remember the last time she had been in a home that felt so... normal.

After their impromptu pancake feast, Becky dragged Freen to the living room, where they sprawled out on the couch to watch movies. The afternoon passed in a comfortable haze of laughter and lighthearted teasing, their conversations meandering from trivial topics to deeper, more personal ones.

“Becky,” Freen began hesitantly as the credits rolled on their second movie. She turned to face her friend, her expression unusually serious.

Becky glanced at her, her brow furrowing slightly. “What’s up?”

Freen hesitated, the words caught in her throat. But as she looked at Becky—at the steadiness in her eyes, the quiet confidence that had always made her feel safe—she knew she couldn’t hold back any longer.

“I’m ready,” she said finally, her voice firm despite the trembling in her hands. “I don’t want to live with him anymore. I don’t want to bear it. I can’t.”

Becky’s expression softened, and she reached out, placing a reassuring hand over Freen’s. “You mean it?”

Freen nodded, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. “I’ve been thinking about it for a long time. I just... I didn’t know how to say it. But now, I do. I need to get out.”

Becky’s grip tightened slightly, her resolve hardening. “Okay,” she said, her voice steady. “Then we’ll make it happen. I promise.”

Freen felt a weight lift from her chest, though the path ahead was still uncertain. For the first time, she wasn’t alone. Becky was here, and Becky would help her.

But the clock on the wall reminded them of reality, and Freen reluctantly stood to leave. She couldn’t risk being caught coming back late.

As Becky walked her to the door, she placed a hand on Freen’s shoulder, stopping her. “I’ll take care of it,” she said, her voice low but resolute. “You don’t have to do this alone anymore.”

Freen nodded, her heart swelling with gratitude and something else—something like hope. She slipped out the door and back into the quiet streets, the warmth of Becky’s house still lingering around her like a protective shield.

This time, she wasn’t just enduring. She was ready to fight for her freedom. And with Becky by her side, she knew she could.