Walk

Prologue

Kellin/James' POV
As the hot water cascaded down my body, all I could think about was planning dinner and how long it might take. I knew I should've had a shower earlier, but I'd gotten distracted in the garden and stopped watching the time. Owen would be home soon and I couldn't think of any meal that would be done fast enough. He'll be mad. But he would've been mad if I'd had dirt all over me too, or if the garden looked messy, no matter what I was screwed.

"Shit," I mumbled, turning off the water and hopping out. I almost tripped over my clothes as I changed hastily. I ran downstairs, turning the oven to a random temperature as I searched the freezer and fridge for food. I grabbed the only thing we had thawed out, fish and toss it in a pan as I throw together a salad. I quickly put some water on to boil for rice, crossing my fingers that it'll be done in time.

My stomach churned as I watch the timer count down, everything plated and ready. I think I'd done it. Somehow, I actually got it all ready in time. The door knob turned and I closed my eyes, taking a deep breath and praying he's in a good mood.

"Hey," I greeted him, smiling as I approached the door.

"Yeah," he replied, disgruntled. I struggled to keep the smile on my face as I recognized the smell of alcohol on his breath. This wasn't good; it was always worse after he drank.

"Dinner's just about ready," I told him, inwardly cheering as the timer dings.

"Better be, I'm starving," he said, walking to the table and sitting down. "Grab me a beer, would you?"

"Sure," I answered, too scared to recommend otherwise. I stir the rice and add in butter before I set it on the table, going back into the kitchen and taking my sweet time, hoping he'll forget he wanted a drink.

"Where's that beer?" he asked, scooping rice onto his plate. I cursed under my breath and went to the fridge, grabbing one.

"Here, honey," I replied, smiling as I sat down.

I got lucky, and walked on egg shells all through dinner. I tried not to flinch when he slammed his fist on the table, mad that the flyers were losing. Luckily for me all was going well, up until dinner ends.

I was washing dishes, and Owen had gone upstairs to change out of his uniform—he's a firefighter. That's when I heard him yell and my blood ran cold.

"JAMES!"

"Yes?" I asked as I approached the stairs cautiously. My hands shook in fear as I focused on keeping my breathing steady.

"What did I tell you about leaving wet towels on the bathroom floor?"

I immediately back away, knowing exactly what's coming as he stomped down the stairs.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to leave it. I'm doing the laundry now and I was about to grab-"

I fell silent as he backhanded me across the face. I clutched my sore cheek, hating myself for letting him do this to me.

"What do I have to do to make you learn!?" he shouted.

"I know, I'm sorry," I said in an attempt to diffuse his anger, trying to keep my voice steady.

"Don't be sorry!" he yelled, pushing me to the ground. "Do better!" He started kicking in sync with his words. I tuned everything out, closing my eyes and rolling into a ball as I dreamed of getting as far from here as possible. I filled my mind with visions of trees and mountains. I imagined the wind in my hair, pretending the blows to my body were my muscles aching.