Page 126 of Loving the Liar

He still hasn’t said no.

“The point isn’t whether it truly hurts you or not. The point isn’t her size. The point is, she tries. She acts on her anger and hurts you.”

“She can’t hurt me. I would crush her.”

“But you don’t,” I insist. “Because she uses your own kindness against you. She knows you won’t hurt her, and she takes advantage of it.” I run my palm up my forehead, grabbing my roots.

“Chris.” It takes all of me not to whisper my next words, but one of us has to name it. “This is domestic abuse.”

“Don’t,” he snorts. Stepping back, he bites his fist, turning his head away from me. When he looks back at me, he’s furious. “How many times did I have to spell out abuse to you when it came to your dad? You never believed me.”

“He never?—”

“Hit you. I know your excuses by heart. He made a mess out of you.” He presses his index finger against the side of my head. “He fucked with your brain until you thought so little of yourself you believe I was a good option for you.”

His words brings a chill down my spine, forcing me to plaster myself against the wall.

“He made you a vulnerable teenager to men like me, and I took advantage of it like the bastard I am. And look at you now. You’re still hung up on me, malleable like a little doll made of clay. A casualty from every move I make. See that’s being a victim of abuse. I let Megan hit me…so what? Down the line, she’ll get what she deserves, and I can say that with deadly certainty.”

I only realize my chest is shaking when he stops talking. My throat is closed from an invisible grip, but I push through because I have to. I have to make him see how far his denial goes.

“My dad.” I lick my trembling lips. “My dad isn’t the topic,” I croak. “He’s gone. Dead. He can’t hurt me anymore.”

“Ah yes.” He nods dramatically, using my perspicacity as sarcasm. “And why do you think that is, my sweet Ella? Someone had to get rid of him.”

He freezes. His words might have had me confused, but his reaction to his slip-up clears it immediately.

I’m in a room with a murderer.

Chapter Thirty-One

Ella

Wrong Direction - Hailee Seinfeld

Igulp, my eyes widening to the point they might bulge out of my head. I can’t feel my legs, and I slide to the side one inch at a time, slowly trying to get myself out of this situation before he can notice.

His hand slams against the wall right next to my head, and I jolt, my eyes squeezing shut.

“You didn’t,” I rasp. “You didn’t kill my dad.”

“Your naivety is taking over again,” he says in a low voice. “Your dad was a nuisance at best, an abuser in reality. I warned him countless times that the closer I became to being a Shadow, the more he was at risk of losing his pathetic life if he didn’t start changing his behavior toward you.”

I shrink, refusing to look at him as I search for a way out. “Luke…you wouldn’t do this to Luke.”

“Luke helped me, Ella.”

My pulse thunders as I reach for my phone in my pocket, panic overtaking me. My own brother wouldn’t do this to our family. I’m searching for his number before Chris snatches the object from my hands.

“He knew.”

“Let me go,” I pant. “I want to go home.”

“You need to listen.”

“Please,” I whimper. But my refusal to look at him earns me a deadly grip on my jaw until the back of my head hits the wall and I have no choice but to face him.

“Your dad is the reason we’re in this hospital room. He’s the reason I’m stuck with Megan, and he’s the reason you were abused and roped into those sex parties. Your brother agreed with me. And now he’s gone.”

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