What if no one buys my stuff?
What if they hate it?
What if it falls apart after the first wear, and I’m a laughingstock?
I take a deep breath and shove thewhat-ifsaside. Doing the work is the first step, and I’m proud as hell of what I’ve accomplished so far. I love my designs, even if no one else does, and that’s what’s important. My conviction will make me a success.
“Excited for the prom this weekend?”
“Yes,” I say with a smile. I’d convinced myself that I didn’t want to go—I even believed it—but my anticipation grows with each passing day. I can say with full honesty that I can't wait. “I found this great vintage purse at the thrift store down the block.”
Believe it or not, I found a truckload of fab finds in my shopping ventures. People around here have no inkling of the value of their old and used items. Bolts of vintage fabrics, buttons, and embroidered appliques. Timeless dresses and retro hairpins. Things that would go for hundreds in the city, priced at mere dollars. Their loss is my gain.
Jolene rings out the register and bags up the day’s till. “Another day in the books,” she says, dropping the leather satchel into her oversized purse. She rounds the counter and pulls me in for a tight hug. “You have a great time and be sure to take lots of pictures for me, okay?”
“I will.”
We lock up together, then go our separate ways. My empty backpack is much lighter than when I arrived here this morning, yet I somehow feel as if the weight on my shoulders is heavier now that my designs are out in the wild. Those sneakywhat-ifscome back with a vengeance as I find my way back home, butfor every negative thought that floats into my brain, I counteract it with something positive. If people here don’t like what I have to offer, that doesn’t mean I can’t make it big in other places. Failure is not an option.
As usual, I make a beeline for my room, hoping to avoid Jace at all costs. He’s been eerily quiet the past few days. Ever since I turned my back to his plea. Veiled rage is one thing. I can handle his grumbled insults and hallway shoves, but the ghosted silence is more than I can take.
A small pile of prom-related items sits beside the dresser. A pair of nude peep toe pumps, my retro handbag, and a jewel-encrusted bracelet I’d siphoned from my previous life. Less is more when it comes to accessories. I’ll couple it all with the diamond studs from Troy and let the dress speak for itself.
But when I unzip the bag to let the material breathe, I’m met with a disaster. “No.” I yank the zipper all the way down and pull out the tattered remains of my beloved gown. Embers of rage smolder within. Grass stains streak across the back, the bottom hem hanging by a thread, but it’s the cigarette burn straight through the bodice that throws fuel on the fire.
You went too fucking far this time, asshole.
My insides tremble with hate as I stomp to the kitchen en route to his room, but no amount of yelling is enough. My hostility is an out-of-body experience. I grab a knife from the corner block, my palms damp as I hold it in my fist and slam through the door.
You ruin something I love? I ruin something you love.
Jace’s truck sits next to the house. I stab the knife into his back tire and pull it free. Air whistles out as the rubber pools under the wheel, but I’m not done. One by one, I stab all four, my furious cries echoing into the night.
“What the fuck are you doin’?”
I spin toward the sound of Jace’s voice. Blood rushes my ears, every vein in my body throbbing with madness.
I hold the knife out in front of me. “You stay the fuck away from me, Jace Wilder.”
“Oh, are you gonna stab me, princess?” He widens his arms and steps toward me. “Show me what ya got.”
The tip of my knife quivers. “Why?”
The single word stops his slow ascent. “I’m afraid you’re gonna have to be more specific with your question.”
There are so manywhysin our relationship I’ve lost count of them all, yet when I open my mouth, only one comes out. “Why do you hate me so much?”
His arms fall to his sides. “You think I hate you?” He reaches past my weapon to touch my face. “My life would be so much easier if that were true.”
My strength gives out. The knife clatters to the ground as I collapse into a crouch. I promised myself I wouldn’t fall at his feet, but he pushed me down one too many times. This is the last straw. The inevitable end I knew would come yet was still unprepared for. “You win,” I sob, dropping my face to my hands. “I can’t do this anymore.”
He stands above me, looking down from his towering height. “What the fuck are you talkin’ about?”
“You want me out of your house? I’m gone.”
I try to rise, but my knees are weak. Jace catches me when I stumble. “Don’t be so fuckin’ dramatic.”
“It’s not drama.” I wrench from his grasp and stagger backward. A burst of strength splinters from my chest. “I can’t do this anymore!” The force of my scream makes him rock back on his heels. I pull in a snivel and hold his stare so he knows what I’m about to say is true. “You’re the best and worst thing that has ever happened to me.”