“There’s still time. You will do so tomorrow,” he said, then reached for his water.

  “No,” I shouted before I could stop myself. I needed to handle this in a calmer manner, but he was shutting me down. I hadn’t expected him not to at least discuss it. I had held on to the hope that a full-ride scholarship would get me out of here. I had achieved it, and still he wasn’t even going to let me argue my side. I wouldn’t accept a no. I couldn’t. Not for me or my siblings’ future. It was up to me to set the precedent. It was up to me to make sure we all had freedom to decide. I was sure one or two of them would want this life. They’d be happy working here and taking over the family business, but I wouldn’t be. Neither would Teresa. What we faced because of tragedy that wasn’t our fault had to stop. My parents couldn’t keep us all in their own little bubble of safety forever. We had to be allowed to live and stretch our wings. I was the oldest now, and it was on my shoulders to fix all that was wrong with my parents’ smothering ways.

  “Leave the table, Ezmita. Go mop the store. Restock the shelves and do inventory in the back,” my father said with no emotion in his voice.

  “Papa—” I began.

  I was cut off with my father’s roar of “NOW!”

  My face heated. My heart raced. I was angry at being treated like a child. They were unfair. They were so backward and suffocating. Is this why I’m now the oldest child? I almost asked that aloud, but I bit my tongue to keep from saying something so cruel, hurtful, yet true.

  I pushed back from the table with more force than necessary and shot up out of my seat. I didn’t make eye contact with anyone in the room. I was on the verge of tears, and they would not see me cry. I would show no weakness. My father hated tears anyway. It did nothing to win his favor.

  Walking through the kitchen entrance, I continued until I reached the back door to the store and went inside. I didn’t make my way to the mop bucket or to the shelves. I kept walking. I glanced at them as I passed, though. The habit of being a good daughter making me question what I was about to do. I forced myself to look away. I wasn’t a puppet for my father to command. I had done everything they’d ever asked of me. I had been the best daughter they could ask for. Not now, though. Not if they wouldn’t listen to me.

  I walked until I was at the front door to the store. Reaching up, I held the bell to keep it from chiming as I opened the door and went outside. I locked it behind me with the key in my pocket. Staring at the storefront, I didn’t see home or family. I saw my prison cell.

  I couldn’t stay here, but I had nowhere I could go. I needed my parents’ approval to accept the scholarship. So, I walked. Down the path to the parking lot, then through the parking lot, until I reached the street. Glancing left and then right, I chose right. It not only led out of town, but it led north. Closer to the state line. It was dark outside. This wasn’t safe, but my life had been one big safety net. I knew of nothing outside my family and that store.

  I walked. I walked until the town lights faded and the street was almost empty. I didn’t panic when cars passed. The fear of being abducted should have been there in my head, making me think through this stupid idea, but all I could care about was escaping.

  The more I thought about being forced to stay here and attend the local university that I could drive to daily, the faster I walked. At some point, I began running. I was running from my life, my jail sentence, my family, from it all.

  I ran in the dark until the light from the bridge that led toward the state line lit things up. Slowing, I realized there were headlights on a truck also lighting up the darkness, but the truck wasn’t driving. It was parked. I came to a stop, my lungs burning, my side hurting, and my mouth dry. I’d never run for exercise, and my body was freaking out. It took me a moment to get my breath under control. I wasn’t sure if I should turn around or face the unknown ahead of me. It only took me a moment to make up my mind.

  Walking hesitantly toward the truck, I wondered if they had broken down or if I was about to get abducted and taken from this life I hated in a way I didn’t want. I didn’t want to be sold into a sex trade or killed and my body found in the woods. I knew this wasn’t safe. I still walked onward.

  The closer I got, the clearer the view, and I let out a sigh of relief as I recognized the black Chevy that belonged to Asa. My luck wasn’t completely bad. I’d have been relieved with any familiar local parked on the bridge. That it was Asa Griffith was a major bonus.

  I scanned the bridge and saw no sign of him. Had his truck broken down? Was he even with his truck? When I reached the bridge, I went toward his driver’s-side door and glanced inside. He wasn’t in there, but his keys hung in the ignition. The engine was still idling. Where was he?

  I opened my mouth to call out his name as I turned to look around the bridge… but my eyes found him and his name froze in my throat. The scene I was witnessing had to be a misunderstanding. I’d watched too many crime television shows, and my imagination immediately went to the worst. There was no way Asa Griffith was standing on the railing of Old Thompson Bridge about to jump to his death. Because a jump from this height into the shallow water below that ran over the rocky bottom was a death sentence. It wasn’t a thrill that anyone sought. No one jumped from this bridge. If you jumped, you’d die.

  Afraid to startle him and cause him to slip and fall to his death, making me a murderer, I held my breath. I remained still and didn’t move. If he was thinking of jumping, I needed to stop him, but would my voice scare him? I wasn’t sure how to handle this. My heart was slamming against my chest. I wanted to run and grab him. I wasn’t sure I could run fast enough to save him or if saving him was possible. He would crush me if he fell backward, and that was if I could even reach him up there.

  His head turned slowly in my direction. “I wasn’t expecting an audience,” he said simply.

  If That Wasn’t Fucking Ironic CHAPTER 5

  ASA

  The darkness hid the distance and destination. Jumping would feel like jumping into darkness. I could pretend it was anything. It would all be over soon enough. Then nothing. The sweat on my palms and hammering of my heart, however, was proof my brain was smarter than that. It knew that under the cloak of the night there was a shallow rocky bottom. A painful end.

  Was this all worth it? And could I do it while she watched? This was supposed to be my own personal horror. No one else needed to be involved. The pretty girl from the Quick Stop didn’t deserve to be a part of this nightmare. Even if the idea of not being alone in my last few moments was somewhat comforting. I wasn’t that selfish, though. With her watching me, I wouldn’t jump. She didn’t deserve that kind of scene to haunt her the rest of her life.

  “You could fall.” Her voice was shaky and nervous. As if she thought speaking too loudly would send me to my death. She wasn’t moving closer to me, and the wide, terrified look in her eyes made me feel guilty for putting it there.

  She had no idea the life I had left for me at home. There was a good chance my father would kill me if he woke up. I’d never stood up to him in that way, and going back to that house seemed impossible. My own mother wanted me to leave. She’d never spoken to me like that. I’d seen the fear in her eyes when she looked at me. I’d seen her terrified before, but she’d always been looking at my father, not at me. Where else should I be? This fucking bridge seemed like as good of a place as any until she’d shown up to watch me.

  “That was the idea,” I admitted, and managed a smile.

  She shivered then and wrapped her arms around her stomach as she stood there watching me. “Nothing is that bad,” she said with complete conviction. “My parents won’t let me leave. They keep me here in this town, in the store, controlling my life. It’s a jail sentence. I have no life, no friends, nothing. But even then… it’s not bad enough to… to… do that.” She said the last bit in a softer voice as her gaze shifted to the rail I was standing on.

  “What’s your name?” I asked her, needing to know. I’d never asked before, but now I wanted to know who she was. What her name was. Why she was out here at night running like someone asking to be abducted.

  “Ezmita,” she said, and the single word rolled off her tongue with a flourish. I liked that name. It wasn’t one I’d heard before. It fit her, the girl I also didn’t know. Had never said more to than “How much?” or “Can I have a cinnamon roll?”

  “Ezmita, I’m not one hundred percent sure I didn’t just seriously injure or possibly kill my father. How’s that for bad enough?” I asked, holding my smile to lighten my words. It felt wrong tarnishing her with my nightmares. She wanted to escape her overbearing family. I was almost positive I didn’t kill mine, but I sure as hell hurt him and he wasn’t going to forgive that. So, yeah, I disagreed with her. My shit show was bad enough to do this.

  “Why?” she asked, instead of running off in fear of a possible murderer or crazy guy who was about to off himself.

  “Why.” I repeated the simple question. I thought for a moment, then inhaled the cool night air. I wondered how many more breaths I would take before this was over. I missed the idea of no longer having the summer sun warm my skin. Not holding a football in my hands again. Smelling the leather as I held it. I was regretting taking those things for granted. “It was an accident. I meant to hurt him. To shut him up. To stop him. To protect my mother,” I said as I stared straight ahead. Then I looked back at Ezmita. Her eyes looked like the color of caramel under the streetlight. “I’m a prisoner too. I can’t leave this town because I can’t leave my mother. He’d kill her eventually, and I can’t get her to see that. I can’t get her to leave.”

  Ezmita frowned, but it wasn’t one of disapproval. She seemed concerned more than anything. I waited, needing her to say something. This stranger who I knew from sight only and very little interaction, I was relying on her to make this better. To change my mind. To give me a reason to step down and face whatever stood ahead of me. I wanted her to convince me not to be a coward.

  “If you do this, then you’ll be leaving her. Forever. Not just for months at a time. You’ll be leaving her alone for the rest of her life. You’ll be leaving her with guilt and pain I don’t think you can imagine since you’re not a parent. Right now, my parents think I’m in the store cleaning like I was told to do. I wanted to talk about college and my acceptance letter to Loyola Marymount and the scholarship I received. But that’s in California, not here. So they refuse to listen. They sent me away from the dinner table to clean. To remind me who the boss was.

  “I ran instead. I didn’t clean. I didn’t obey. I always obey. I didn’t this time. I can’t keep trying to be the perfect daughter because my older sister overdosed on heroin at seventeen years old. I can’t be who they wanted her to be. I want to be me. I want to live the life I choose. I don’t rebel and do drugs like my sister did. I’ve been the perfect daughter. Not anymore. I can’t. I have to be free.”

  Ezmita had her own set of problems. It seemed I’d just been given the CliffsNotes. I was sure there was more to an older sister who had overdosed, and parents who expected her to obey them. She was out here in the dark on a road alone, running. I didn’t know a girl who was brave enough to be out here at night by herself. There had to be a form of desperation in her, too.

  “One would argue that you being out here alone in the dark running is your own form of suicide,” I replied.

  She frowned at me. She hadn’t seen it that way. Maybe she hadn’t thought it was that dangerous to be out at night alone.

  “I see your point, but I wouldn’t have let someone take me without a fight. I was running from my overbearing family. Not running toward the hope of death. You’re standing on the brink of it. That’s not fighting. That’s giving up.”

  She was right. I wasn’t a quitter.

  I sighed and slid my foot back. I heard her gasp, and I jumped backward before she could suffer any more of this nightmare with me. My feet hit the road beneath me, and the railing was now in front of me. I stood there and looked up at it wondering if Ezmita hadn’t come along, would I have gone through with it?

  She was right. I’d have caused pain and more destruction. My mother had suffered enough, but she wasn’t going to leave my father. I didn’t think he was dead or that he was going to suffer a brain injury that would give him any lasting problems. But I did know it was possible he would kill me. I wasn’t going to jump, but I couldn’t go home. Not yet.

  “Oh my god,” she said loudly. “I thought, I thought…,” she said, then bent forward, putting her hands on her knees and inhaling deeply like she was fighting hyperventilating. “I thought you were about to jump. You didn’t jump.” She said it more to herself than to me. Then she began muttering to God in Spanish. Some words I recognized thanks to Spanish 1 and 2, but most I didn’t.

  “I can’t go home. At least not yet,” I told her.

  That got her attention and snapped her out of what appeared to be a panic attack. She lifted her head and looked at me to say more.

  “I’m going to get in that truck and drive. Just go. I don’t know where or for how long. I’m just going. I have to get away from this and get my head together,” I said.

  She stood slowly, and I waited for her to try and talk me out of that, too. She was running outside in the dark, but I had no doubt she was going back home tonight. I’d drive her most of the way before I left. I didn’t like the idea of her out here alone, but I couldn’t be caught by her parents either. I had to get out of this town unseen.

  “Take me with you,” she said, snapping me out of my inner battle.

  “What?” I asked, unsure I’d heard her correctly.

  “I want to go. I don’t want to jump off a bridge and end my life. But I want out of this town. I want free of my prison.” There was a passion in the way she said those words. She wasn’t worried about the outcome or how angry her parents would be. She just wanted out of here.

  This would cause me more problems. “How old are you?” I asked, knowing prison for kidnapping a minor wasn’t something I was ready to face anytime soon.

  “Eighteen,” she replied.

  “Promise?” I asked, not sure I believed her.

  “February fourteenth,” she assured me.

  I chuckled. If that wasn’t fucking ironic. “We share more than screwed-up family lives,” I said, then nodded my head toward the truck. “Get in. Let’s go.”

  “What do you mean?” she asked me, not moving.

  “We share a birthday,” I said with an amused grin.

  The smile that spread across her face lit up her eyes, making them sparkle with adventure. I would have to keep my head. This was not going to happen. She was off-limits. She had to be. We both had families that were holding us back. I needed a friend who understood. Who knew it all. She would be my first. I wasn’t going to mess that up.

  I slid my phone out of the pocket of my jeans and quickly made sure all tracking devices were turned off. I was sharing my location with no one. I considered tossing it over the bridge, but I would need my phone. My mom would call.

  Ezmita’s eyes widened in shock.

  “Phones are the best trackers. Do you have yours?” I asked her.

  She shook her head no.

  “Good. Let’s go,” I said, then headed to climb back into my truck.

  This Night Was One Nightmare After Another CHAPTER 6

  EZMITA

  My parents had refused to let me have a cell phone. Even when I’d explained that I would pay the bill monthly. I wondered now if they would regret that. Somehow I doubted it. They never regretted anything, even the fact my sister’s death had been fueled by their smothering her.

  My parents never admitted their wrong. Not even when Maya’s drug addiction had come out. They didn’t see where their overbearing parenting had sent her to rebel in a way that would eventually take her life. I had only been fourteen when Maya had died. I’d always thought it was an accident. I couldn’t imagine she would do that on purpose.

  Now I wasn’t so sure. If Asa Griffith, a guy who I had assumed had it all, could face his own death because he saw it as an escape, could Maya have done the same? Had she wished someone was there to stop her? At any point, had she regretted it and it had been too late?

  Needing to think about something else before I panicked and decided to go home, I asked, “Where are we going exactly?”

  He shrugged. “I have no fucking clue. You got any ideas?”

  Me? I’d never left this town. I shook my head, thinking this was possibly the worst idea I’d ever had. I couldn’t leave my parents like this. They had lost Maya. How could I do this to them? Even if they controlled my every move and refused to let me be free.

  “Changing your mind already?” he asked with a smile that didn’t meet his eyes. As if he had been expecting me to do just that. I wanted to say “No!” with conviction, but the lump forming in my throat at the idea of causing this kind of pain to my family stopped me. He slowed the truck and turned around in the middle of the dark road. We hadn’t even made it out of town and I was backing out of this. Torn between guilt and the need for freedom, I sat quietly.

  He said nothing, and the sound of his heater blowing was all that filled the silence in the truck. How many times had I wished to be right here in this truck with him? How many times had I daydreamed about Asa? And here I had the chance to run off with him and I couldn’t do it.

  Sirens ahead, lighting up the dark road, sent my heart pounding in my chest. Had my parents already called the police? Were they coming after us? I’d barely been gone. They should just be finishing dinner now. “Dios,” I muttered, clasping my hands tightly in my lap, not sure if God cared about the current situation I was in or if he helped out girls who rebelled against their parents. I was still unsure of his existence anyway.