"Don't talk about her."
"Why? Feeling guilty?"
I pushed past him and ran upstairs. That night, I locked my door for the first time.
I started looking for apartments the next day. Anything to get out. But rent was insane, my savings were thin, and Mom kept asking why I was in such a hurry to leave.
"Don't you like living with us? Marcus adores you."
I couldn't tell her. What would I even say? That her husband looks at me like he wants to devour me? That I'm not sure I hate it as much as I should?
Two weeks later, Mom left for a business trip. Three days in Chicago.
"Take care of each other," she said, kissing Marcus goodbye.