Jade

My alarm buzzed softly at six o'clock.

I was already awake.

I lay perfectly still beneath my duvet, staring up at the cracked ceiling above my bed and listening to the rain tapping faintly against the window. The sound was small and steady, but it did nothing to calm the knot tightening in my stomach.

The first day of Year Eleven.

My chest felt tight just thinking about it.

Everyone always said Year Eleven was the most important year of school. GCSEs. Revision. Pressure. Decisions about the future. Teachers loved to talk about it like it was some exciting turning point, as if all of us were supposed to wake up ready to conquer the world.

For me, it was just another year I had to survive.

I pulled the duvet back and sat up slowly, rubbing my cold hands together. They were trembling again, the same way they always did when I was nervous or tired or scared, which was most of the time.

"Stop," I whispered to myself.

They didn't.

My bedroom was barely big enough for a single bed and a wardrobe that had one door hanging slightly crooked. Damp stained one corner of the ceiling, and the wallpaper had been peeling away for years, curling at the edges like it was trying to escape. The room smelled faintly of dust and old rain, and the radiator gave off a weak, uneven heat that never quite reached the far side of the room.

I crossed to the wardrobe, pulled out my Fairview High uniform, and dressed quickly. The shirt was stiff against my skin, the blazer a little too big in the shoulders, and the skirt always looked slightly too long on me no matter how many times I had it altered. At four foot ten, almost everything looked too big on me.

I tied my long brown hair into a low ponytail and tucked a loose strand behind my ear before glancing at myself in the mirror.

Brown eyes.

Pale face.

Small frame.

Quiet.

Invisible.

Just how I liked it.

Or at least, just how I had learned to be.

Taking a shaky breath, I picked up my school bag from the floor and opened my bedroom door.

The house was silent.

For one brief second, I let myself hope.

Maybe he was still asleep.

Maybe I could get out of the house without speaking to him.

Maybe-

"Jade."

My heart dropped so fast it felt like it hit the floor.

"I'm awake," I answered quickly, already bracing myself.

"Then why isn't my breakfast ready?"

His voice came from downstairs, flat and irritated, as if I had somehow offended him by existing.

I swallowed hard and hurried down the stairs.

The kitchen was dim and cold, lit only by the weak grey light coming through the window above the sink. My stepfather sat at the table without looking at me, one hand resting near his mug while the television murmured quietly in the background. He didn't need to raise his voice to make the room feel smaller. He never did.

I didn't speak.

I never did unless he asked me something.

Moving automatically, I took bacon from the fridge and placed it into the frying pan. The sizzle filled the silence, sharp and loud in the quiet kitchen. I cracked two eggs beside it, trying not to let my hands shake too much, then dropped slices of bread into the toaster.

Finally, I poured fresh coffee into his favourite mug.

My fingers slipped slightly on the handle, and a little coffee splashed onto the worktop.

I wiped it away immediately with the sleeve of my cardigan.

Please...

Just let this morning be easy.

I balanced the plate in one hand and the mug in the other, moving carefully across the kitchen.

One step.

Two.

Three-

My foot caught the leg of one of the dining chairs.

Everything happened at once.

The plate slipped from my hand.

The mug flew sideways.

Coffee sprayed across the kitchen floor.

The ceramic smashed into dozens of pieces.

Silence.

I froze.

My breath caught in my throat as I stared at the mess on the floor, my heart pounding so hard it hurt.

"I'm sorry," I whispered.

My stepfather slowly stood.

The scrape of his chair against the floor echoed around the kitchen, loud and ugly.

"I'm so sorry..."

I didn't move.

I didn't dare.

His hand shot forward.

Pain burst across my scalp as my hair was seized and yanked hard enough to make my eyes water instantly. I cried out, stumbling backwards before he shoved me away from him. My shoulder struck the wall with a dull thud that knocked the breath from my lungs.