Page 191 of Did They Break You

Maybe this would end.

I close my eyes as he threads his fingers through mine.

“Try,” he urges me. “Just try to say it all.”

I hear footsteps. The creak of the stairs.

Storm leaving. Giving me this moment. Giving it to Cortland. Because Storm didn’t owe me anything. I didn’t trust him. He scared me.

But Cortland… Cortland was the one that really cut deep.

I take a breath before I start.

“It’s just… my stepdad, you know, he’s big on obedience and if I don’t do things his way and even when I do… he uses any scraps of affection as a weapon.” These are words I’ve written down. Words I’ve finally typed from my journal, for my memoir assignment, even though I know I’ll never turn something that vulnerable in. And I know maybe I should stop talking and not tell it all to Cortland, because I know, deep down, this will never work out, but for some reason, I keep talking anyway. “That night, I just thought maybe it’s what you wanted. And I was scared, because Chase was so rough and Storm and Brinklin and you outnumbered me. But I thought you wanted it, and so I convinced myself I wanted it, but I was screaming it in my head.” I close my hand into a fist, pressing it to my temple. “I was screaming so loud. Until you held my head in your hands, and it just all went… numb. And I thought, for you… I’d do it if it made you happy. With me. Then that morning, you were sleeping so soundly, and I was so scared. And everything hurt, and…”

He grips my hand ever tighter.

“I got home the next morning. And my stepdad… he was waiting for me.” My throat constricts, my words raw. “He was drinking, and it was early, and he’d got home just a few hours before me. A mixed-up flight. Business delay.”

My eyes meet his,my knees trembling.

I open my mouth, an excuse on the tip of my tongue. But it’s six in the morning. My clothes are dirty, save for my shirt. Which isn’t mine at all.

But my jeans, the ones I never wear around Silas, they’re ripped and flecked with dirt just like my nails, and my hair, and…

Silas lifts his glass to his lips, taking a drink as he stares at me with dead eyes, just a few feet from me in the wide, marble foyer of our house.

His house.

“Where were you last night, Remi?” he asks again after a moment.

My heart is rattling around in my chest and I feel like I’m going to be sick. I was worried I might get pulled over on the way home. Worried I was still a little drunk from the night before. Worried everyone who passed me on the road could see what I’d done. What I did.

“I…” I want to beg him to hold me. I’m leaning against the door, my palms clenched into fists, the taste of blood and dirt in my mouth. I want to beg him to let this go. To let me cry. Tears sting my eyes.

He arches a brow, stepping closer. I see his knuckles blanch around his glass. “You what, Remi?” His words are so cold.

I inhale, catching his expensive cologne. So familiar, but there’s nothing comforting in it.Where have you been?I want to scream at him.My whole life, where have you been?After Mom died,I know you hated me. I know you still do.

“I was at a party,” I admit, wincing as I do.

He steps closer. My heart races. “Were you?”

I close my eyes, feel a tear slip down my cheek. “Yes,” I whisper.

“And what happened to you at this party?” Cold cruelty.

I know I won’t get sympathy from him. I swallow down a lump in my throat. “Nothing,” I lie. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you I was going?—”

“Nothing?” he questions, his voice louder, closer now.

“No. No s-sir.” I open my eyes and find him staring down at me.

“Why do you have dirt on your knees?”

I feel hot and uncomfortable. I want to run. But there’s nowhere to go. This hell is my home. “I-I don’t?—”

He drops the glass. It shatters at our feet, but before I can think that through, he’s fisting my hair in his hand, yanking my head to the side.

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