Page 91 of Science Project

“My family didn’t do anything,” Akio said.

My eyes widened, and I furrowed my brow. “B-but I saw Pick’s body …”

Confusion rushed through me. What was going on? I swore I had seen Pick’s corpse, and Akio was the only person that I’d told about?—

“My family didn’t do anything to him,” Akio said again. “I did.”

“B-but he … he was mutilated,” I whispered. “Y-you did that?”

“I told you that I was going to protect you,” he whispered. “You don’t have to repay me for keeping a promise.”

CHAPTER

FIFTY-TWO

NICOLE

“Who else hurt you?” Akio whispered, tucking some hair behind my ear.

With my head resting on his chest, I chewed on the inside of my cheek and stared at the wall opposite of his bed. While my heart felt like it was being torn to shreds from the inside out, I kept quiet. Akio had proven himself to me, but …

I wasn’t ready.

Not for the world to know.

Not for Redwood to know.

Not for Akio to know.

Squeezing my eyes closed, I tensed beside him and hoped he didn’t notice.

“Who else?” he murmured, gently rubbing my shoulder in circles. “You can trust me.”

When I opened my mouth, nothing but a breath came out. After Akio had admitted to doing this all himself, it had taken me almost an hour to really grasp that this hadn’t been his family, but had been his doing.

“I know I can trust you,” I whispered. “But …”

“But what?”

“I’m scared.”

“If you’re scared about them finding out and hurting you, then I can take care of?—”

My eyes burned with tears. “No, I’m not scared about that.”

“Then, what is it?”

“You’ll think less of me,” I said. “I know you will.”

He turned onto his side and cupped my face in his hand, his brows knitted together. “You know how much shit I’ve seen because of who my parents are? How much I had to put up with? I wouldn’t even think less of you if I knew you’d killed someone.”

Still …

“You don’t get it.”

While I knew that I shouldn’t feel shame about this—because Dad had done this to me—that was all I could feel. I had never asked for this life, yet I’d accepted it because I didn’t know any other way.

“I wish I were ugly. It would make everything easier,” I admitted.

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