Saw Me 19

When I got home, the silence was too still. Like the house had been holding its breath, waiting for me to walk in.

I tossed my bag in the corner of my room, peeled off my jacket, and that’s when I saw it—my desk drawer.

Cracked open.

Empty.

My stomach dropped before my brain even caught up. The tattoo receipt was gone.

Shit.

I bolted downstairs.

She was in the kitchen. Phone in one hand. The receipt in the other. Her face didn’t move when she saw me—just froze in this perfect storm of fury and disbelief. A statue about to crack.

She held up the receipt like it was evidence in a trial. One line. One date. Tattoo appointment—canceled. But not soon enough.

“Explain,” she said, voice razor-thin.

“It was nothing,” I said quickly. “I didn’t even go. I canceled.”

She moved so fast I didn’t even see it coming—her hand lashed out, knocked my phone clean out of mine. It smashed on the tile, pieces skittering across the floor.

“You think this is funny?” she snapped. “You think this is what ambition looks like? Self-respect? Throwing away your future one lie at a time?”

“It wasn’t a lie!” I shouted. “I didn’t even do it!”

“But you wanted to!” Her voice broke through the room like thunder. “What else have you been hiding? Boys? Parties? Breaking into the damn school?”

I stepped back, chest heaving. “You already gave this speech last week. Need to record it next time? Play it on loop?”

Her hand trembled as she pointed at me. “I have spent my life building something you could stand on. And you’ve torn it down because you think rebellion makes you interesting.”

I laughed. Bitter. Wild. “No. I finally started breathing. That’s what this is. You just hate that I don’t look like the perfect little résumé anymore.”

“Breathing?” she scoffed. “You call this breathing? You’re drowning, Zoey. You’re sinking and you’re too proud to admit it.”

“No,” I snapped. “I’m finally not living your life. That’s what’s pissing you off. I don’t want your Ivy League dreams or fake family dinners or your email tone of voice.”

She stepped forward, eyes blazing. “He’s ruining you.”

The words stopped everything. For half a second, the silence roared louder than the shouting.

“No,” I whispered. “You did that first.”

Her palm slammed the counter. “Don’t you dare blame me for your mess!”

But I was already moving. I yanked my bag from the stairs and ran.

Down. Out. Gone.

The front door banged behind me, but I didn’t turn around. The air hit cold and sharp, but I welcomed it. Anything to get away from the walls closing in.

I didn’t care where I went.

Anywhere was better than here.

The park was mostly empty. A few kids smoked near the basketball court. I ignored them and made my way to the old swings. The paint was peeling. The sky above bled orange into purple, like even the universe couldn’t decide what came next.

I sat on the swing, letting my feet drag through the dirt. Everything was loud and too quiet at once. My thoughts were messy. Frantic. Unraveled.

I pulled out my phone—my backup, the one she didn’t know about. The screen was cracked from when she slapped the first one, but it still worked.

My thumbs hovered.

Then I typed: I’m sorry I said you were nothing.

Sent.

I watched the message sit there. Waiting. Hoping. Then I typed again.

Please just tell me you’re okay.

Sent.

No response.

I watched the screen until the battery dipped to red. Still nothing. Not even a read receipt. My chest throbbed. Not from panic. From knowing.

The last time I felt this hollow, it was after Miles humiliated me. But this was worse. Because Chase had never made promises—only moments. And I believed every one.

I tilted my head to the sky. The first star blinked above the trees. I closed my eyes.

And for the first time in days, I wished I could go back. Not to who I was. But to who I thought I was becoming—before everything started burning.