26

“Shut up and listen to me.” He pulls me the last stretch of stair and into the familiar room I spent the past few years growing up in. All pink, white, soft, and frilly. Everything still as it was, as though I never left. My room looks like my parents have preserved it as such from the day I walked out.

My taste in décor has never grown from childish and cute; stuffed animals litter my bed, and shelves are filled with teen romance books and trinkets. Arrick has seen this room a million times and pulls me to my silver-gray chaise longue in front of the huge window, evicting fluffy pillows and blankets as he plonks me down harshly.

“I didn’t get you home so you could up and run again. Stop being selfish, Sophs. For on