Mistrust Read Online Free Page B

tension as she looks at me in confusion “Sorry, I’m just tired,” I say, dragging my gaze away from the hurt she’s obviously feeling.
    “Dakota?” I don’t dare look at her. “Dakota!” she says again in a stronger voice.
    “I’m really tired, Sammy. Can we talk later?” I don’t give her an option to say anything more. I turn over on my side, my back to her, and pull the covers up to my chin.
    I’m hyperaware of her still sitting on my bed, but I have to keep my shit together until she leaves. My heart breaks. I’m so angry, not at Sam for her questions, but at myself for treating her so badly. She’s my little sister and all she wants to do is talk to me. I wish I could tell her, but I just can’t. I can’t tell anyone.
    I feel the bed move, and a few seconds later I hear Sam say, “I don’t know what’s going on with you, Dakota but you know you can tell me anything, I’ll always love you.” Then the door quietly closes behind her.
    I want to scream at her, to call her back so I can hug her and tell her what happened. But I know I can’t. It’s too shameful.
    Instead I lay perfectly still and my eyes finally close, giving me some peace and quiet.
    Knock.
    Knock.
    Startling awake, I grab the blankets and pull them close to me. “Come in,” I call out in a croaky voice.
    “Sweetheart, are you going to sleep the day away?” Mom asks as she comes and sits beside me on the bed. “Are you feeling okay?” She puts her hand to my forehead and feels for a fever. “You don’t feel warm. What’s wrong?”
    I look up at her and smile weakly. Degradation and humiliation fills every part of me. I want to burst into tears and tell her what’s happened. But I can’t, because then she’ll look at me differently. She’ll think badly of me, and I don’t think I could take it. “I’m okay,” I finally whisper, choking back the tears threatening to fall.
    “You sure?” Mom asks as she strokes the hair off my face. “You look tired.” I nod to her and try to paste a smile on my face, though of course it’s a fake and sickly sweet. “You must have had a great night last night.”
    “Yeah,” I finally respond after a few seconds of quiet. Better I say very little than risk my voice deceiving me and Mom looking at me as if I’m crazy. No matter how much I want to tell her, I know I can’t.
    Mom’s naturally golden hair is falling gently over her shoulders, her deep brown eyes examining everything about me. I have to put on my ‘happy face’ and pretend I’m okay. “You sure?” she asks again, trying to determine whatever’s bothering me.
    I swallow down once, and smile again. “Yeah, Mom, I promise. I’m good.”
    Mom takes a deep breath and stops playing with my hair. “Okay, I trust you.” The moment the word ‘trust’ is said, I have to hold back the strangled cry of shame. “We’re going out for dinner tonight. Just down to Henry’s Pizza House. We’re leaving in about half an hour.”
    “I’ll be ready,” I say, though inside my soul is dying.
    “Okay.” Mom leans down and gives me a kiss on the forehead. She then leaves my room, and I bury myself back under the covers.
    A few moments pass, and I know if I don’t get up, Mom will know something is really wrong. So I reluctantly push back the blanket, and get up out of bed. “You can do this, Dakota,” I encourage myself. Stumbling over to my mirror, I look at my body where I can see every scratch, bruise, and mark made last night. If I can see them, everyone else will see them too.
    Looking at my make-up arranged on my small table, I pick up the concealer and dab it all over the glaringly obvious marks on my face and neck. “Oh my God, I look terrible,” I mumble to myself. I begin to layer the make-up on my skin, masking the horrible marks beneath.
    By the time I finish, I look halfway like my normal self. Almost like the sixteen-year-old version of me before last night happened. But my eyes tell a different