Between my visitor last night, thoughts of my father, and Abel’s plans for me, my mind is racing. Dad’s had health issues for a long time. He doesn’t take care of himself like he should and overindulges in things he shouldn’t. I remember the doctor telling him more than once that he needed to watch his diet as he prescribed pill after pill to manage his cholesterol and high blood pressure. And although I haven’t seen him since being away at school, he told me he’d been more active and more careful with his diet. As careful as he could be while still enjoying life, he’d said. I’d laughed, but I’m worried.

He’s in his fifties. Too young to die. I haven’t had enough time with him. And Evangeline has only had thirteen years.

I hope it’s not as bad as Abel made it out to be and I comfort myself with the knowledge that when I talk to the doctors I’ll know more.

I switch on the water to take a shower and strip off my pajamas and underthings. I glimpse my reflection in the mirror when I turn to grab a bottle of shampoo and see the bruise around my neck. Abel’s fingerprints. At least it’s not too dark, and I can cover it up. But maybe I shouldn’t.

The one on my cheekbone is worse. It’s swollen and blue.

Looking at my stomach and thighs, I find bruises in various stages there too. They don’t hurt. I’m used to them and try to make a joke of it when I knock into things.

When I told Abel it’s worse with stress, I wasn’t kidding. I’m not sure how I’ll actually get through a wedding to a stranger.

But I push that thought out of my mind and step into the shower. I hurry to shampoo and condition my mass of thick dark hair and use the last of the body wash. After my shower, I dress in a pair of jeans, choosing something generic because it’ll piss off Mom and Abel. Mom because she likes to keep up appearances, Abel because he told me to wear a dress. I twist my hair up into a clip and make sure some hangs down over my right eye, then step out into the hallway and go to my sister’s room. I smile genuinely for the first time when I knock on her door and hear her squeal as she throws it open.

“Ivy!” She practically jumps into my arms, and I hug her hard, my smile widening.

“Eva! I missed you so much.” I didn’t even realize how much until just now.

“Me too. God. Me too.”

I hear her sniffle, and when we draw apart, I see she’s been crying. The delicate skin around her eyes is puffy.