The Play

7

Skylar

The guest room was uncomfortable. Too nice and too clean, like some kind of hotel suite. I laid in the king-sized bed restlessly. The large window on the right wall let out the slightest stream of moonlight.

Sleep. I squeezed my eyes shut, heart tight in my chest. Go to sleep.

Memories from earlier that night flashed through my mind, Damian's news, and me running away from everyone to go to bed. Look how that worked out.  Even though I already made the decision to tell Mom, the consequences weighed down on me.

What if she's not okay? You know how she was when Dad died. My hand clenched in the cover. I don't want to think about that; how she didn't laugh or smile anymore, forgot to eat, overworked herself, left me all alone--

You're just doing this for you.

That's it. I couldn't stand it anymore. Laying in bed was just making me more anxious. Maybe a walk would help clear my mind— at least I hoped. Grabbing my phone and jacket, I crept through the hallway and down the stairs that led to the living room. I sneaked past the bundled lump on the couch and slipped my shoes on.

The front door closed shut behind me as the harsh wind burnt my face. The entire neighborhood was quiet as the sky swirled with thick, gray clouds. The only light source were the few street lamps lined across the road. Being a true crime fan, it was probably a bad idea to wander off alone after midnight but I couldn't find it in me to care.

I started my walk on the empty sidewalk. A moment later, my name was called from behind.

It was Damian. He ran over, in little to nothing, wearing only a pair of silk pajamas. "Where are you going?"

I ignored him and kept walking. He was the last person I wanted to talk to.

"You're not going to tell them right now, are you?"

Hot rage shot through me. I stopped and turned around. "Is that what you're worried about? That I'll tell them?"

"No!" Damian's eyebrows furrowed. "I just don't want you to do anything while you're emotional."

"Not everyone needs a month to know what to do," I snapped.

We stared at each other a moment before I started forward once more. My fingers were burning and my feet numb but I didn't care.

He followed beside me. "I wanted to tell you."

"You just had to get wasted to do it," I said nastily. His face was red from the cold. It hurt to look at him. "Were you ever going to tell me?" My chest tightened.

"Yes," He emphasized, eyes burning into mine. "I wanted to— I just couldn't—"

"Yes, you could," I stopped again. "I would've told you or them— or someone! You were just keeping your dad's dirty little secret!"

Damian flinched as if I had slapped him. Shocked and then angry. Good. At least now we both were.

"I don't care if people think my dad's a cheater or not," He gritted out. "I just didn't know how to tell you. I didn't want to hurt you—"

"Too late for that."

He looked even more furious. "Even if I told you sooner, it wouldn't change the fact he cheated— stop taking your anger towards him on me!"