Once I was in my room, I locked the door behind me and sank down onto the floor, burying my face in my hands.
Everything felt overwhelming and exhausting. I crawled to my bed, too drained to change out of my dress or wipe off my makeup, and tried to sleep.
The next morning, I came out of my room to find Allison sitting at the dining table. Michael was fussing over her, serving her a plate of what looked like a gourmet breakfast.
He didn’t even seem to notice my tear-streaked, swollen face.
I took a seat across from them, and Allison finally glanced my way with a faux-innocent expression. “Emma, you’re up. I stayed the night because Michael said I needed to rest. But don’t worry, I stayed in the guest room,” she said with a pitiful tone that made my skin crawl. I knew all too well what she was up to.
“No need to explain yourself, Allison,” Michael said abruptly.
Then, turning to me, he added, “You slapped Allison yesterday. Apologize now if you have any decency left.”
I rolled my eyes in disbelief. I couldn’t believe he was making this the issue first thing in the morning.