Page 107 of From the Wreckage
So I stand there in the shadows, the ache in my chest deepening as her sob echoes in my memory.
The one thing I know for certain settles in my bones like a curse: She’s drowning.
And I can’t do a damn thing to save her.
CHAPTER 78
Brielle
The light creepingthrough the curtains is soft, almost peaceful. It feels wrong. My body is wrecked, my insides in pieces, and the world outside dares to shine like nothing happened. The sunshine mocks me, daring me to rise with it when all I want to do is disappear.
My head pounds, my stomach lurches, and my eyes burn from crying until there are no tears left.
I’m wrapped in a blanket on the couch, my dad’s old sweatshirt draped over my shoulders. It smells like him—wood shavings and motor oil—and I cling to it like it can hold me together.
Dad sits in the armchair across from me, elbows on his knees, hands clasped so tightly his knuckles are white. His eyes are red and haunted as he stares at me like I’m a puzzle he can’t figure out. He looks like a man who’s lost the map to the only thing that’s ever mattered to him.
“Bri…” His voice is gentle, but it still makes me flinch. “What happened last night?”
The words scrape my chest raw. I open my mouth, but nothing comes out. The words lock inside my throat. If I try to speak, I’ll shatter all over again.
He studies me like one of his half-finished motorcycle restoration projects in his garage. One he intends to fix.
But I’m broken into a thousand pieces he’ll never be able to repair.
He tries again, his tone softer, his voice trembling at the edges. “Did somebody hurt you?”
My lungs seize. The images flicker like a horror reel inside my head. Joey’s hand on my waist. The bitter taste of the drink. The blur of faces at the party. The way my body wouldn’t move, no matter how much I screamed inside.
My stomach rolls, and I shake my head, curling tighter into myself. If I say it out loud, it’ll make it real.
Dad’s jaw flexes, his voice thick with the fury he’s trying to rein in. “Tell me who, Bri. Please. I’ll take care of it. I swear to God, I’ll?—”
“Don’t.” My voice cracks, barely a whisper. I can’t let him finish. As much as he wants to fix this, he can’t. Hurting Joey won’t change what he did to me.
And if I attempt to force the words out, I’ll fall apart.
He can’t know,the voice whispers inside my head.What will he think of you if he does? That you were stupid for not listening to your gut. That you deserved it. That you’re ruined, forever tainted.
His breath shudders out, ragged, and he presses a hand over his mouth, like he’s afraid of what else might spill out.
I bury my face in the blanket, hiding. Words won’t come. Only tears and exhaustion.
Finally, Dad leans back, dragging both hands down his face. He nods once, defeated. “Okay. We’ll take it slow. You don’t have to say anything until you’re ready.”
I nod like that’s acceptable, still hiding in the blanket. I can’t look at him because I’m lying. I know I’ll never be ready.
The silence stretches heavy between us. I curl smaller, rocking gently on the couch, as if maybe I can soothe myself back into the girl I was before last night.
But that girl is gone, shattered into pieces that no one can ever fix.
And no matter how many times my dad whispers it’ll be okay… deep down, I know it never will.
CHAPTER 79
Brielle
The smellof bacon and coffee on a Monday morning at 7:35 a.m. should be comforting, but this morning it turns my stomach. Dad sets a plate in front of me with scrambled eggs, toast with strawberry jam, and bacon. It was my favorite breakfast as a little girl. But I have little appetite after what happened last night.
