Free Cut by Layla Harding Page B

yeah!’ and instead said, “Yes, sir.”
    “Do you think your parents would allow it?” There wasn’t a chance in hell.
    “I don’t know.”
    “I would like you to start moving your stuff in this weekend. There is a spare bedroom you can have. It has a bed, dresser, and,” his voice caught before he continued, “some other stuff we can move out. You’ll probably want new sheets and that kind of thing. You can decorate it however you would like.”
    And then it hit me. What about my piano? I couldn’t possibly leave my music behind. And it would be impossible to move it over here. My parents would never agree to pay a professional moving company. Even if I did figure out a way to bring it, when would I play it? What if Ken hated music? His life was quiet.
    Did he realize it wouldn’t be quiet anymore? I would have to shower at his house. Eat there. Do homework. My clothes would have to be washed. My phone would be ringing and pinging with texts. What if I had a nightmare? I hadn’t yet in all the nights I had stayed there, but what if I did?
    Then the ultimate question sliced through my brain—what about my most important habit? My first and strongest love. Would the razors come with me, too? Would I still need them? Could I hide it from Ken?
    “Come on, I’ll show you your room.” With all of this still bubbling in my head like a poisonous brew in a cauldron, I followed Ken down the small hallway, past the corner bedroom I found him in what seemed like a lifetime ago, to a door I assumed led to my new bedroom.
    Ken opened it and waved for me to go in. I stopped at the threshold, breath, heartbeat, brain function, everything slamming to a halt. Against the wall was an old Baldwin upright with a matching bench.
    “It was my sister’s. She played beautifully.” I barely heard him as I crossed the room and lifted the lid. There wasn’t a single speck of dust on it. From the outside it seemed incredibly well-cared for. I pressed a key. The note was true. The sheet music for ‘Amazing Grace’ was lying open.
    Without asking I sat down and began to play. The melody filled the room, sweet and clear. I didn’t realize I was crying until the final note faded.
    Ken placed his hand on my shoulder. “Welcome home, Persephone.”

12.
    Mom and Dad were both home when I got there. Dad must have taken off early. He was tapping away on his phone, most likely sexting the little chippie from his office, and Mom was staring at a glass that was little more than melting ice. I could only hope this was at least the second drink of the day. They both looked up when I walked in.
    “Hey, guys.”
    “Hi, honey. How was school?” Mom’s eyes were too bright, her words too careful. Yep, she had started early. I caught her at the perfect moment of low resistance before she tipped over into oblivion.
    “Good, same old thing. Listen, I have something I need to talk to you about.” I took a deep breath and sat down on the ottoman in front of them. “So I got this job offer, and I would really like to take it.”
    “A job offer? I didn’t know you were looking for a job. If you had told me I would have found you something to do in my office.” Yeah, that would be awesome, Dad. Like I don’t have to put up with enough of your shit at home.
    “I wasn’t really. It just fell into my lap. It seems like a pretty good gig, and it will help a lot with school expenses this fall.”
    “Oh, are you actually going to college?” The disdain in Dad’s voice went right through me. It took all my willpower to keep from wilting or bitch slapping him.
    “Yes, Dad, I’m going to college.”
    “Really? Because it doesn’t seem like you’ve done much on that front. I wasn’t sure you were even going to graduate.” Throughout my childhood I saw Dad tear Mom apart with little digs here and there—almost a Chinese water torture of insults that kept her constantly thinking she wasn’t quite complete. A wife with no confidence was a