Brianna Holt
Just Drop It. WLW/GL
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Me and Honey.
God, she’s perfect. Everything about her is light and warmth. And me? I’m jagged edges and shadows, a mess born from the wreckage of my life. My dad’s an alcoholic, a hoarder, a drug addict—the kind of man who crumbled when my mom walked out years ago. She left me with the ruins she couldn’t handle and the father she couldn’t love. He drinks. He yells. He hits.
Honey my escape. Her world is everything mine isn’t. Her house is massive, spotless, perfect. She’s got maids and chefs, even a walk-in closet that feels like another world. When I’m there, it’s like I can finally breathe.
But tonight, I’m stuck at home. I was lying in bed, trying to ignore the cold silence of my room, on the edge of sleep, when my door slammed open. My dad stumbled in, reeking of booze, eyes glassy with anger.
He started ranting, slurring insults and complaints. I’ve learned to stay quiet, but then he said it—something about how I’m just like my mom.
It hit me wrong. I stood up, words flying out before I could stop them. Yelling back at him.
His fist connected with my lip.
The next punch hit my face, and then my stomach, knocking the breath out of me. He finished with a slap, leaving me crumpled on the floor. I felt the blood on my lip, the ache blooming across my body, but I didn’t cry until I heard him leave.
I grabbed my bag, threw on my jacket, and slipped out.
When I reached Honey place is security guards let me in without a word. I climbed her balcony, ignoring the sting in my ribs. When I knocked on the glass, she peeked through the curtain, her face full of worry before she opened the door.
Brianna,she breathed, her hands soft as they brushed my face. Her voice was full of questions I didn’t want to hear.
It’s nothing,I muttered, pulling back.
Bri, what—
It’s not a big deal,I snapped, grabbing her wrists to stop her.
God, can you just drop it?Her eyes filled with hurt, but I couldn’t let her see how broken I really was. Not tonight.