Amy’s POV
When James dropped me off in front of my house, I didn’t want to get out of the car. The warmth of his hoodie still wrapped around my body, and the comfort of his quiet presence lingered in the air between us. I stared at the porch light for a few seconds, wishing more than anything that I could stay in the safety of the passenger seat forever. But instead, I forced a smile and opened the door.
“Thanks again… for today,” I said softly as I stepped out, my voice barely rising above the hum of his engine.
He nodded, his eyes meeting mine with a kind of quiet understanding. “Anytime.”
I watched his Jeep roll down the street and disappear around the corner before turning toward my front door. The house looked exactly the same as it always did—perfectly swept porch, neatly trimmed hedges, the warm glow of the kitchen lights glowing behind the windows—but tonight, something about it felt foreign.
I hadn’t heard from my parents in days. They were still supposed to be in Italy, but as I reached the front step, I heard voices from inside—familiar ones. For a moment, my heart soared. They were home. They were finally home. After everything that had happened, after the mess with cheer, Camilla, the photo, the fight with Charlie… all I wanted was someone to care.
I stepped into the hallway and paused, listening to the sound of my parents laughing softly in the kitchen. They were talking about something simple—my mom mentioned a market near the coast; my dad said something about espresso. They sounded so normal, so relaxed, like nothing had changed.
Tears welled up in my eyes before I even stepped through the kitchen doorway. I had been holding so much in—pain, anger, confusion, everything that had been boiling inside me since the moment I opened Charlie’s door and saw Camilla’s face. And now, standing here, hearing my parents again, I couldn’t hold it anymore.
I walked into the kitchen, my legs trembling. “Hi,” I said, my voice shaky and thick. “I… I have so much to tell you.”
My mom glanced up from the fridge and gave me a brief look before returning to the dish she was preparing. Her tone was breezy, almost careless. “You’re a big girl, Amy. You can handle school drama on your own.”
I blinked, stunned. The words hit me like cold water. I opened my mouth, but nothing came out.
My father didn’t even look up from the table where he was scrolling through something on his phone. “Why are you burdening us with nonsense?” he asked casually, like I had asked for help picking out curtains instead of reaching out for support.
Something inside me snapped.
All the nights I had cried alone. All the mornings I had walked through school with whispers in my wake. All the times I had pretended to be strong when I felt like breaking. All the moments I had waited—begged—for them to notice me.
“Nonsense?” I asked, my voice rising. “You were in Italy while my world was falling apart!”
My mom finally turned toward me, now visibly annoyed. “Lower your voice, Amy.”
“No!” I shouted. “You don’t get to tell me to lower my voice. You haven’t heard my voice in weeks. I needed you. I was drowning. I was losing everything. And you were drinking wine on a balcony somewhere like nothing was happening!”
My father frowned slightly but still didn’t look up.
I was shaking now, the tears falling freely, my chest heaving as years of quiet frustration finally spilled over. “You never asked what I wanted. You never showed up. You were gone for my birthday last year. You left during tryouts this year. And now you’re acting like I’m the problem because I need you?”
My mother’s lips tightened into a thin line. She didn’t rush to comfort me. She didn’t ask me to explain. All she said was, “Watch your language.”
That was it.
That was all she had to say to everything I just poured out.
My legs moved before my brain could catch up. I stormed out of the kitchen, slammed the front door behind me, and stepped into the cool night air. My breath came fast and ragged as I stepped off the porch and into the street, still sobbing, vision blurred by tears.
I didn’t see the headlights. I didn’t hear the screeching tires until it was too late. A horn blared. Someone screamed.
And then—BAMMMMM.
Everything went black.