Gracie
Ryland and I were on our way home. I was dreading it; my father would be mad because I have barely been around the last couple of days, meaning I have not been there to clean the house or make his meals, I have not been there for him to take his anger out on, and I am sure he will have no problem making up for the last couple of days.
“Gracie, do you want to come to mine” Ryland said, “I don’t want you going home alone with him,” he added.
“I need to, the longer I am away, the worse it will be for me,” I sighed.