Something smashed again.
I heard someone crying, but I didn't think it was me this time.
By the time the apartment finally fell quiet, I felt hollowed out.Empty.
Everyone kept saying we’d get through this.That I wasn’t alone.That they’d take care of me.
But I didn’t feel any of it.
I felt broken.
Like I wasn’t even inside myself anymore.
Chapter 27
I woke to pale light seeping through soft curtains, the kind of light that blurs the edges of everything and makes the world feel far away.
For a moment, I didn’t know where I was.
The ceiling wasn’t mine.The sheets smelled like home, like Mom's homemade laundry detergent and something warm and familiar, but my chest constricted as if I couldn’t breathe.
I turned my head slowly, and that’s when I saw her.
Clara.
Curled on her side, tucked close enough that her shoulder brushed mine.Her hand rested between us, like she’d reached for me in her sleep and never let go.
I stared at her, memory breaking apart in uneven fragments: Andrew’s hands, Brody’s roar, flashing lights, voices shouting my name, the flash of a camera.I couldn’t remember the drive home.I couldn’t remember who brought me.
Clara stirred, lashes fluttering against tear-stained cheeks, before her gaze locked on mine.
“Cassidy.”Her voice cracked like glass breaking.She sat up halfway, cupping my face in shaking hands.“God, I was so scared.”Her tears spilled fresh, dropping onto my skin as she pressed her forehead to mine.“I thought...”She choked on the words.“I am so sorry this happened to you.How are you feeling?”
I swallowed hard, but nothing came out.My throat was tight, my chest hollow.I didn’t know what to do with her fear.I didn’t know what to do with mine.
She kept talking, broken pieces of sentences tumbling out.“Chase called… Dad and Mom ran out the door.I called, and all I could hear was dad yelling at the cops… Mom said you were safe, but you weren’t talking, and I couldn’t get to you fast enough.I had to stay with Jackson.I had to sit here and wait for them to bring you home.”
I caught her wrists gently, lowering her hands from my face.“Clara,” I whispered, my voice splintering around the sound.“I’m here.”
Her eyes searched mine, like she didn’t quite believe it.
I wasn’t sure I believed it either.
I pushed myself upright slowly, my body stiff and sore, though I couldn’t remember being hit or falling.Everything felt distant, muted, like I was underwater watching someone else’s life play out.
Voices drifted from somewhere downstairs, low, steady, the cadence of people planning, deciding.Every so often, my mom’s voice cut through, sharp and controlled, the way she got when she was trying not to unravel.
“…restraining order…”
“…the lawyer’s on it…”
“…pressing charges…”
Each word landed heavily, but they barely made sense.
I drew my knees up to my chest, burying my face for a moment, willing the pieces of myself to click back into place.They didn’t.
Clara touched my shoulder gently.“They want to talk to you about next steps.The cops.The lawyer.All of it.But if you’re not ready...”
