“So, institutionalize me. You wanted to before.”
My father blanches. "You had your hands around Merci’s throat! In the middle of the cafeteria! What was I supposed to do?"
When I’d finally returned to high school after getting out of the hospital, I attacked my stepbrother, trying to strangle him until school safety pulled me off him. "You don't understand."
"Then explain it to me."
His words hit like a slap in the face. After years of taking me to both medical and psychiatric doctors, he knows I can’t process emotional shit.
And what the fuck would I say anyway? That I can’t control the anger burning through me whenever I see Merci. Can't understand why my skin crawls when he's near. Or, let’s try the fact I keep jerking off to thinking about him grinding against me in that club.
"I need to know you can handle Merci being home." He steps closer, his eyes searching my face for something I can't give. "Because if you can't, if there's even a hint that you might hurt him again. . . "
My nostrils flare and my breaths become shallow. “Let me guess, you’re going to commit me?”
"If that's what it takes to keep both of you safe." His voice softens. "Son, I know this isn't easy for you. Thedoctors explained—"
"I don't need another lecture about my ‘condition’." The words come out sharp, jagged. "I know what I am."
He shakes his head. "Do you?"
I swallow hard, my muscles tensing to the point where they’re shaking. He’s right. I don't understand. Can't understand. The insular cortex damage made sure of that.
My father reaches out, but I take a step back. He deflates a bit, shoving his hands into his pockets. "Merci’s permanent address never changed, which means he's still legally a resident of New York. He’s going to take the GED test, and if he passes, he'll attend Crestwood.”
No.
No fucking way.
My eyes narrow to mere slits. “You can’t be serious.”
“He deserves a future just as much as you do. And I will help him the same way I’ve helped you.”
My chest tightens, rage, hot and uncomfortable, building behind my ribs. "Helped? You mean hidden. The doctors, the trainers, the NDAs—"
"I did what I had to do to give you a chance at your dream. A chance at a normal life."
If only it were possible. “There’s nothing normal about me, never will be.”
“He’s family, Zach. You need to accept that.”
Family.
The word feels like a knife twisting in my gut. My mother left me. My father wrote me off the second I became too much to handle. And now, the cockroach who ruined my life is being paraded around and cared for more than I ever was.
My upper lip twitches into a snarl as I glare at my father. Then I turn and walk away. Once in my room, I slam the door. My fingers rake through my hair and wrap around the strands, then I tug them. Hard.
I keep yanking and pacing until the buzz of my phone in my pocket grabs my attention. Pulling it out, I read the message on the screen.
Vik: My mom found Merci.
Me: No shit. He’s here.
Vik: Sorry.
Me: Need to come up with a new plan.
Vik: Can’t help. I’ve been ordered to stay out of it.
