The next Sunday morning, I woke up with my eyes more swollen than ever. Last night, after the argument with my father, I had cried myself to sleep. My head hurt, and all I wanted was to go back to sleep when someone knocked on the door.
“Annalise?” It was my father’s voice. “Will you let me come in?”
I hated it when he called me by my middle name. I pulled the blanket up to my chin and closed my eyes, hoping sleep would return soon. I didn’t want to see my father, not after he had chosen to believe that i***t Nate instead of me. My plan was to stay in bed all day.
“Come on, princess, let me in. I made you breakfast,” he insisted.
Mmm... I couldn’t imagine my father making breakfast, but if it was true, I had to see it. I let out a long sigh and decided it was time to act maturely.
On
