Mr. Gibson stands and takes a step toward me, but I move back. “Catalina, it was for the best.”
“The best for who? What are you even talking about?”
William speaks up. “Mr. Gibson has come to us with proof that you and Hunter have been intimate. He caught you two in the hallway in an intimate embrace. Said you were becoming inappropriate when Hunter tried to deny your advances.”
“What? No! That’s not true.”
“He said when he tried to approach, Hunter became aggressive and threatened him. He attacked Mr. Gibson.”
“What? No. That is not true. He’s lying. If anything, he attacked me. Last night, in the park—”
“Enough of your lies! I am so done with you—”
“I’m not lying! I was at the park, and he attacked me. Hunter actually saved me.”
“Miss Mitchell, I know you want to protect your stepbrother, but what is best is that you understand your actions have consequences. In the eyes of the law, having sexual relations with family is frowned upon.”
I scoff in complete shock at the bullshit he’s trying to pull here. “Oh, Jesus Christ. You don’t know what you’re talking about. Nothing is going on between us. And if there was—we’re not even related—you know what, it’s none of your fucking business.”
“Catalina!”
“No! Fuck this. He’s a psycho. He’s been coming on to me and making advances. I told him no. I told him to stay away from me, and he wouldn’t. And now this?”
Mom’s face is beet red with anger. “This is the last straw. You have embarrassed me for the last time.” She turns her attention to Mr. Gibson. “I am so sorry for my daughter’s actions. I hope this can stay between us. I’m sure we can work out a settlement with insurance for your hand.”
“He’s not the innocent one here,” I plead.
“Shut up, Catalina.”
Mr. Gibson turns to my parents, his sick, pathetic smile in place. “Yes, that would be great. I just want what’s best for her. I’m sure we all do.”
“You’re all delusional. Where’s Hunter? He’ll tell you the truth.”
“He has. His story matches with Mr. Gibson’s.”
“I don’t believe you.” I pull up my phone to send him another text.
“Leave him alone, Catalina. He wants nothing to do with you.”
I ignore her and shoot off another text.
“Jesus, stop being so pathetic. He sent us a text earlier confessing everything. I should have known better than to ever let you come back here.”
My eyes raise from my phone to my mom. I look at William, but he can’t hold eye contact and looks down to his lap. When I look at Mr. Gibson, he regards me with sympathy. But I see past it. Evil. Hatred. Revenge.
William stands with my mom. “Thank you so much for coming today, Mr. Gibson. We’ll be in touch.”
“Please, call me Samuel.” They walk him to the door and shake hands. When he’s gone, my mom turns around.
“You have five minutes to pack your shit up. Get the fuck out of my house and never come back.”
My lip starts to tremble, and the tears fall in waves down my cheeks. “Mom, you have to believe me. Please ask Hunter. He’ll tell you—”
“You make any contact with him, I will call the police on you.”
“What? William, please, you have to believe me.” He can’t even look at me.
A guttural sob feels like it rips my insides as it bursts up my throat. I race up the stairs and throw myself into my room. My chest constricts, and I struggle to breathe. Each strain feels like it’s choking me. The panic inside me erupts, and I slide down my door as a horrid scream breaks from my mouth.
How can this world be so evil? How can the people who are supposed to love you the most have the least faith in you? How can someone you thought believed in you turn out to be the one who drowns you?
I can barely see through my tears, but I get up and pack my shit. I grab the bags from under the bed and the rest of the minimal stuff scattered around my room. When I come down, William and Mom are gone. Of course, she wouldn’t even say goodbye.
Since I have nothing left to lose, I grab William’s wallet from the coffee table, help myself to his cash and a credit card, book myself the first flight home, and send one final text to Hunter.
Me: I don’t know what happened. I guess I had faith in the wrong person once again. I want to fight this doubt and hope the people around me are feeding me lies. But your silence is telling me otherwise. I want to tell you I hate you. Because somewhere deep down, I still do. But I grew to feel something else. Not that it matters now. I hope you get the retribution you’re so bent on finding. I feel sorry for the people you destroy in the process. It hurts. I don’t even know why I’m telling you this, but I’m leaving tonight for my dad’s. I bought a ticket, and soon, I’ll be gone. You all can go on living your lives like I was the rotten seed infesting your perfect little world. For what it’s worth, I deserve better than you. Than them. One day, I’ll find it. I can’t say the same for you.
I wipe at my tears and slip my phone back into my pocket. Grabbing the handle of my small suitcase, I pull the straps of my backpack up my shoulders. I’m reaching for the doorknob when it opens in front of me.
I raise my chin, ready for another fight. I refuse to take any more from my mother, a resentful woman who’s never deserved my love in the first place. Instead of her, or even William, at the door, I find myself looking down the barrel of a gun, Mr. Gibson holding it.
“Mr. Gibson, what are you—?”
“Don’t talk.” He shoves the gun into my chest, and I jerk back, but his hand snakes forward into my hair, pulling me back.
“Please don’t.”
“It’s time you learn what happens to bad little girls who tease hungry men—who flaunt their little tits around, begging to be played with, only to cry wolf later.”
“I swear, I wasn’t. You’re making a mistake—”
I cry out as he tugs me forward, a sharpness radiating from my scalp. “You think you can lie to me? Do you think you can just taunt a man and get away with it? You think I don’t know who you are?”
My eyes water from the throbbing in my head. My arms shoot up, scratching at his hold on me, desperate to relieve some pressure. He howls when my nails dig into his forearm, tearing through his skin.
“Bitch,” he hisses, tossing me back. I get tripped up, and I slam into the end table by the back of the couch, my head hitting the corner.
I fall limply to the ground, the wind knocked out of me. Agonizing pain slices through my skull. I try to fight through the fogginess and kick my legs out to make space between us, but he’s already hovering over me.
“Why do you have to fight me? Why can’t you just remember how it was? You liked me. You wanted me.”
“No.”
“Yes!” He jabs his gun downward, and I freeze. “You were hungry for me. I saw it in your greedy eyes. I just wanted to give you what you wanted. I wanted to feed you in ways you never knew you were starved for.”
“Mr.—Mr. Gibson, you’re my teacher—”
“Stop saying that!” He bends down, and I cower, waiting for the next wave of agony to come. His fingers latch around my neck. “Admit it. Admit you’ve been dreaming about this.” His lips brush against mine. My stomach churns with disgust, and I fight not to throw up. He tries to kiss me, but I shift my head to the left, angering him more. “Stop being a tease, bitch.” His thumb digs into my windpipe, forcing my head straight. “I know you like it. You ache for an older man. Just like you ache for your daddy.”