Tough Girl

3: It's not your fault

Luke's P.O.V.

I stared at her retreating form as it made it's way into the crowd. She basically just said she was partially committing identity fraud. I meant it as a joke but the way she answered was intriguing. She answered it like it was an actual possibility. And now, I wanted to know why.

I mean, I don't think she was committing actual identity fraud, she doesn't seem like that kind of person. But maybe, it has a deeper meaning or a more emotional or physical feeling. Either way, I knew I had to find out. I would. She was like a mystery or a game- not a puzzle, those are more Kota's thing. But if there was one thing I wasn't going to do, it would be staying away from her.

Sang's P.O.V.

I groaned as I stepped into my home. I had at least one polo boy in each of my classes, which wasn't a bad thing, hopefully. I did have a lot of homework though. And a bruised cheek, of course. Some guys were fighting in the halls and I happened to be walking by. One of them swung, missed, and hit me. He said a quick sorry then jumped right back in. Ugh.

I went straight to my room. My mother was in her own and my father was at work. While I worked out math problems, I thought about Luke's conversation with me. He did look genuinely sorry he scared me and I fell. I'm not sure what he'll do with my answer, though. Hopefully he doesn't think I'm committing identity fraud, that would be bad. I don't need to fight off police I have enough to deal with at home.

Between my father's yelling and expectations, keeping up with my sister, and my mother's required "strength", I don't need police searching my house for fake I.d.s, too. I let out a small laugh as I picture the scene unfolding before my eyes. This draws my sister's attention, apparently, because she moves from her room next door to stand in my own. Her tall lean frame is against the doorway as she leans back and watches with slight amusement.

"What's so funny?" I shake my head. "You wouldn't know, or understand, probably. It's one of those stupid jokes I always laugh at when nobody else does," I say, which is mostly the truth. Mostly. This answer seems to satisfy her though, and she retreats from my room. I blew out a breath and head downstairs to start dinner.

My father comes home sometime but I'm not sure exactly when. He ignored me and heads off, likely to his office. After the food is prepared, I set the table. Everyone joins me at the table and we quietly start eating.

Everything is running ever so smoothly until Marie speaks. "Sang...what happened to your face?" I blink and swallow as my family turns to look at me. They finally look away and I finish, collecting the rest of the plates as they finish as well. I try to escape them by quickly heading towards the stairs. It's no use- my mother calls for me from the living room where, undoubtedly, my father waits also. I walk in head down.

"Have a seat." I silently sit. "What is on your face, dear?" "A bruise," I mumble. "Where did this bruise come from?" "A...fight..." I answer slowly. I lift my eyes as my father jumps from his seat, standing in front of me.

"Again! I have told you over and over not to engage in these things! Could you be any more disrespectful?!" I flinch at his harsh tone. My mother sits quietly. She doesn't say anything, she doesn't even care.

"I'm sorry...I didn't hit anybody! I- I was walking by and they hit me on accident!" I say frantically. This only enraged my father more. "Who do you think you are! Talking back is disrespectful also! Do you not know these things?! I am ashamed to call you my child! Has Anna taught you nothing?!"

Tears threaten at the corner of my eyes as my mom snaps to attention at the sound of her name. "Don't think about eating for the next two days! Do you hear me! No manners no food!" He yells. I shrink back further into myself. "Andrew..." My mother says quietly. He doesn't pay any mind to this and before I can move, his hand blurs before my eyes. My cheek- stings.

My mother's eyes widen. "Sang, go to your room." She says quietly. I nod and rush up to my room. I lock the door, rushing to look in my mirror. My cheek is red, under my bruise. It hurts bad and I cry out in pain. I can hear yelling downstairs. It is one sided, Andrew yelling only until suddenly, my mother steps in. I cringe. She must be really mad.

My mother almost never yells. It's very rare and when it happens, it's terrifying. I cry and shake against my dresser. I hate it when my parents fight. And then I hear it. A loud smack that reverberates throughout the household. Another cry escapes me and I shake harder, my crying fiercer.

I want nothing more than for this all to end. There is so much suffering and pain...that it becomes hard to breath. My cheek still stings and I press my cool palm against it. How is it that the day started so well and turned out so bad?

I don't know how long I cry but eventually the yelling stops. My door opens and I curl up impossibly tighter. Someone sits next to me. They curl around me and kiss my hair softly, and cry too.

It's my mother.

She pulls away after a little bit and I look at her. Her cheek is red, too. She frowns and wipes a couple tears off her cheeks and mine. "I'm sorry," she whispers. "It's not your fault, mom." She gives me a small smile. "I know things are hard but I need you to be my tough girl...that I love with all my heart." And with that, she leaves. Her words suffocate me, close me in. I can't sleep in fear of nightmares that are sure to come. I know I needed a breath of fresh air- I wanted it so bad. And I was going to get it.