My father had sent me away, demanded I go home. He wanted me to leave so he could take care of business. Burying my face in the pillow, a gut hurtling scream exploded into the cool satin. Twisting my face to the side, I brushed the hair from my eyes. Quinn's unknowing face loomed in my mind. How could I lead him there? What the hell is wrong with me? Exactly what my dad was going to say or offer, I wasn't sure of. Either way, I knew it would only benefit him. Flipping to my back, I stared up at the yellow, tinted ceiling, small stains of orange spotted against the cracking plaster where water had collected and seeped in. I wanted to run from this place, take off and start over. But I knew I couldn't leave my father. As much as he didn't want to admit it, he needed me. I know he needs me, that's why I'm here. Or this whole mess of my life has been worth nothing. My mother had died when I was born. From what my dad had told me, she was a great woman. She was caring and compassionate, but a fireball nonetheless.
