Chapter Forty-Seven - Life of the Party

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KATIE'S POV

There's no living, no coping, or no moving forward. All there is for me to do is exist, focus every ounce of concentration on getting through each second. I dedicate my mind, body, and soul into each daily task. Eat three meals a day. Focus on school. Do my chores around the house. All I can do with minimal difficulty, but then there is the hardest task, make small talk with my parents. At least twice in the evening, I force myself to sit or stand in my parents presence, and carry on a conversation about the day's events.

Their gaze gnawing into my soul, it feels as if it's trying to rip away the layers of my being until all that is left is the filth. I can't make the filth go away. Every time I am forced to confront my reflection, my stomach feels as if it  is being crushed under a hundred tons. I am repulsive to myself. My nose wrinkles as if I can smell how spoiled I am.

The worst comes in the silent hours, where I lay in the darkness of my room. There's little sleep, the sleep that does come leaves my body more exhausted than it ever was before. He is always there, either lurking in the corner of my conscious thoughts or seizing complete control of my unconscious mind.

The following weeks, my entire essence was seized by anxiety, fearful that a piece of him lingered inside me; but there was also hope, a hope that once I was assured that nothing else would come from that night, I would be free. Free from him, free to speak, free to live again. The blood eventually came and I wept at the sight of it, wept with relief that nothing more would come from what happened. I waited for all the feelings that tormented and silenced me to wash away, but they never did; and then I wept in despair.

Dad insisted I accompany him to the store today, and would not accept any my excuses. "Give yourself a break for the rest of the day." He said as he twirled his car keys around his finger, "What if I let you get some driving practice in?"

I forced myself to give him a smile, "Fine." I surrendered and took the keys from him.

The trip to the grocery store was unreasonably drawn out, Dad only bought a gallon of milk and some whipped cream. He insisted both were absolutely crucial necessities and that it was vital I be there to ensure he picked "the right one" of each. That's when I began to suspect something and a knot formed in my stomach.

When we returned home and I saw Dominick's car in the driveway, I knew. My stomach twisted in knots and my heart was violently seized under an overwhelming pressure. Mollie greeted Dad and I at the front door and sprang into my arms. I put on a smile and gently swing her around. All you have to do is get through one afternoon with your family. I told myself.

Dominick came around the corner, a small colorfully-wrapped flat square in his hand. He uses one arm to wrap me into a side hug, "Happy birthday." He says as he hands me a present.

"Thank you." I say pulling away from the hug after a couple seconds.

My fingers start to neatly unwrap the present from where the wrapping paper is tapped. "Hey, patience, Champ." Dad says with a chuckle. "There's still a birthday song that needs to be sung and cake to be eaten." He places his hands on my shoulders and starts leading me to the kitchen.

That's when I discovered I had grossly underestimated how bad the situation actually was. Around the corner, entering the kitchen, I find Mom and Tyde are not the only ones waiting. Gathered around Mom and Tyde, with balloons in hand and pulling the strings on party poppers, are Linkon, Christopher, Sawyer, Jena, Amber, Sharlotte, and a couple other girls from the basketball team. Seeing all them standing right in front of me, I want the ground to swallow me whole. I want to run and never stop. I want to be anywhere but here.

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