Delia signed me out of county care at nine in the morning, and she didn't say my name once.
She looked at my hoodie like it was a stain she had paid to have removed.
Delia: Sienna. Get in the car. We're late.
She caught my chin with her nails and turned my face toward the window light.
Delia: Look at that. You look like a fucking dog that lost a fight.
The care worker behind us said nothing. Nobody ever says anything.
Her nail dug into the scar on my jaw, and the old skin pulled and split.
Then she slapped me. My lip hit my teeth, and I tasted blood.
Delia: Don't you dare bleed on this car.
Delia: If one camera catches that mess on your neck tonight, I'll put you back in county so fast your head spins.
I heard her. I believed her.
County housing was one phone call away from being my life again.
Delia: Rules. You don't talk unless Warrick asks you a question.
Delia: You don't flinch. You don't cry. And you keep that neck covered.
She said damaged goods like it was my job title, and I stared at the back of her head.
The house was big and cold, like a showroom nobody was allowed to live in.
Delia's fingers closed around my wrist and squeezed until I felt the bones.
Delia: Bathroom. Now. Fix your face.
Two men stood on the stairs. Cato and Finn. My new stepbrothers, who I had never met.
Finn's eyes went straight to my lip. Cato's went to Delia's hand on my wrist.
Cato: Mom. Let go of her.
Delia: Don't start. She's county trash with a torn face, and she's my problem.
Delia shoved me toward the bathroom, and my shoulder hit the door frame hard.
The bathroom light was bright and honest. It showed everything.
Split lip. Four red marks on my wrist. A scar down my jaw like a seam.
I tried to cover the scar, but my hands shook too much to do it.
Finn: I brought you a sweater. It's soft. And this, if you want it.
He didn't come in. He waited with the makeup in his hand.
Finn: Can I see your wrist? I just want to look. Nothing else.
I held out my wrist. His fingers were warm and careful, and he didn't squeeze.
Finn: She shouldn't have done that. It's going to bruise.
Sienna: It's fine.
Finn: It's not fine.
Cato: Nobody in this house touches you without asking. That includes us.
He set the water down and stepped back, and nobody had ever said that to me before.
I didn't know what to do with it. Kindness always cost me something later.
Cato: And you don't have to hide in here.
I wanted to believe him. That was the scary part.
My chest felt warm and tight at the same time, and I didn't trust either feeling.
Delia: Sienna! Warrick's car is here. Smile, or I swear to God.
I pulled the sweater up over the scar. Finn held the door.
Finn: We'll be right there.
Downstairs, Warrick's voice boomed, warm and practiced, like a man on television.
Delia's threat sat in my chest like a stone I had swallowed.
One reporter. One scar. One mistake.