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And I leave, putting distance between us so that his voice finally stops echoing in my head.

You’re becoming like him.

I grit my teeth and keep walking. An empty bottle lies in the middle of the path and I kick it as I go back to my house.

You’re becoming like him.

The thought has been living in the back of my mind for years. It’s always coming back when I stare too long at the mirror and catch the same anger in my eyes that I see in my father’s. Ethan didn’t create it. He voiced the very thing I spend all my time trying to suppress.

Why did he not yell at me?

Why did he have to be honest?

I shove my hands deep into my pockets until I arrive home and push the door open.

The anger that had carried me this far collapses all at once and it’s replaced by something uglier and older. The one that makes me feel small before I even step in.

“Finally.”

Not now. Not tonight. Not after him.

The sentence keeps replaying and I close my eyes for a second. I try my hardest to fight the tears.

Never cry in front of him.

I don’t reply and take my jacket off slowly to gain some time off and not feel the scream in my throat. But I feel him behind me the moment a tear falls down.

“Look at me when I’m talking to you.”

And I don’t.

My fingers are still trembling at my side, from the punch, the anger, the frustration, everything swirls up in my head, turning into a painful and constant buzzing.

You’re becoming like him.

“Where were you?” His voice is calm and I know it’s worse when he’s calm.

“I was with Hayzel,” I lied.

A manic and drunk laugh escapes him. And at that moment, I’m glad Milo is sleeping peacefully at Edna’s house.

“Are you fucking lying to me?”

My heart skips a bit but the loudness of the buzzing keeps getting more and more painful.

I’m so tired. I’m so fucking tired of being angry.

Tired of feeling my entire body turn into a weapon every time he breathes near me. Tired of waiting for the next word, the next move and the next thing I’ll have to survive.

“Leave me alone.” The words come out of my mouth without any hesitation.

I can feel it, the small and thin thread of obedience breaking every time he talks.

I turn around, meeting his eyes and his expression changes. A flicker of disbelief, like he expects me to be the same girl who lowered her head and waited for him to finish. And maybe I am.

Maybe a part of me will always be that girl.

But tonight, I am so tired.