Dexter didn’t try to call me again, which was expected
A phone call was the last bit of patience he had for me.
I remember the first time we had a big fight.
His veins bulged as he pointed to the door and barked, ‘Caroline, get out of this house. I don’t have a sister like you.”
I wiped away my tears and shot back, “Do you think I want a brother like you?”
“Caroline, I hate you.”
He slapped me, leaving my face swollen and red.
I ran out and waited by the road out of our house, expecting him to come out and find me.
The wind was chilling at night, and I was wearing thin pajamas.
Soon enough, my lips turned purple, and I couldn’t help shuddering.
But to my disappointment, Dexter didn’t come find me.
He never came out of the house.
