Page 3 of Stolen By the Pack

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“Hello, daughter,” my dad’s voice boomed in the tiny apartment.

“Hey,” I said, my eyes back on the TV.

“Did you make dinner for us, too?” he asked.

I shook my head, my stomach already sinking at what would come next.

“If we had raised her on the island, she would have been disciplined,” my mom complained, walking to the kitchen. Nothing I did was ever good enough for her. Even trying to get a master’s degree in psychology wasn’t going to be enough.

I walked into the kitchen and set my bowl in the sink.

"How were classes today?"

"They were okay," I said vaguely, remembering throwing away the pills and hoping she couldn't read the guilt on my face.

"What do you mean, just okay?"

"I'm not a kid, Mom," I said. "I'm twenty-four and don't need to explain everything to you."

There. I finally said it.

Maybe talking with Lori today pushed me over the edge.

"Excuse me?" my mom said, setting down the towel she was drying her hands on. "We raised you and tended to your every need."

I sighed. She always played this game when I tried to gain a little bit of independence. Ihadto move out of here. There was no question about it now.

“I didn't mean to have an attitude. I'm just trying to let you know, Mom."

As my mom put a kettle of water on the fire, I noticed tired lines on her face. I wondered if she was tired of having a daughter and if she wanted me to move out, but never said so.

"It's okay," she replied.

"I’m going out for a walk.”

“Okay,” said Mom, pushing her long braids out of her face.

I had to walk on eggshells all the time to gain her approval. I just wanted to be myself, leave college and do art. I couldn’t even imagine her disappointment if I told her that. I couldn’t afford to move out on my own, but I couldn’t wait for the day it happened.

I was wearing black jeggings so I wouldn’t be too cold out. It was February, but it was still quite chilly in Seattle.

I walked towards Lakeland Park at the end of the street but decided to go to the nearby gas station. It smelled like diesel. A man in a filthy white shirt was filling his gas take and picking his nose. I shuddered.

I walked inside the little convenience store, and the cashier greeted me with a nod. I noticed a tall man wearing a black hoodie grabbing water.

When I walked past him, I noticed when he turned to look at me.

I dodged past him without making eye contact and grabbed my favorite Cornnuts bag. Walking around the park and eating a snack was something I enjoyed to relieve some of the stress from my classes and my overbearing mother.

Grabbing a lemonade, I walked to the front, hoping I’d have enough cash. I’m pretty sure I did.

“It’ll be $5.59,” the cashier said in a bored voice, looking anywhere but at me. I pulled my wallet out of my pocket, counting how much I had.Shit,I was a dollar short.

“Can you take the lemonade off?” I asked.

“I got you,” said a deep voice from behind me.

I spun around, seeing the tall man I saw upon entering the store.


Tags: Layla Sparks Paranormal