Everyone was shouting over each other: my dad, Clara, Chase, and the younger officer trying to mediate, and all I could do was sit there, my nails digging into the fabric of my hoodie, breathing too shallowly to feel real.
“Cassidy,” my mom’s voice cut through faintly, reaching for me, but I couldn’t seem to move.
The older cop, whose name I hadn't heard, cleared his throat and asked."Are Brody Palmer or Mason James here currently?"
I felt Clara stiffen next to me, and my eyes shot up to meet the cop's dark, cold stare.
"No, they are not here.What does that have to do with anything?They gave their statements last night."My Dad replied.
The cop answered my dad, but his eyes never left me, "The Brooks are considering filing charges of their own.Assault charges against Mr.Palmer and Mr.James..."
I knew he was still talking, but the ringing in my ears was too loud, was he saying what I thought he was saying...
Chase's angry voice cut through "...better not be what you are implying.The force used to protect my sister was not excessive.Brody reacted like anyone else would have in that situation..."
I felt like I couldn't breathe.This had to be some cruel joke.I would wake up and be back in my apartment, ready to pack up and come home...I would....
Was I being punished?
Then, out of nowhere, the lawyer walked in, summoned, apparently, by my dad.He lived close, and the minute he stepped into the chaos, his voice sliced through it clean.
“Not another word,” he said sharply, his briefcase snapping open.“Ms.Morgan isn’t answering any more questions without me present.”
The argument kept going.Loud, heated, filling the air until it felt like there wasn’t enough space to breathe.
And I… couldn’t.
I stood up quietly, like my body was moving without permission, and started up the stairs.Someone called my name, maybe Clara, maybe mom, but I didn’t answer.Couldn’t.
Back in my room, I shut the door and crawled onto the bed, curling into myself until my forehead touched my knees.
I closed my eyes and willed the noise away.
I just needed everything to stop.
Chapter 28
The days blurred into each other.
Sometimes I woke in the middle of the night, certain I could still feel his hands on me, the bruises throbbing beneath the surface.Other times, I stayed in bed long past noon, staring at the ceiling until my mom knocked softly.Then, she walked into my room, busied herself with opening the curtains, and left a mug of tea on my nightstand, demanding that I come down to eat.
They all tried, in their own ways.
Clara sat cross-legged on my bed some nights, talking softly about Jackson and Mason, about anything but Andrew, as if pretending none of it happened might make it untrue.
Chase stopped by nearly every day after work with dad, barging in with his easy grin and takeout bags, begging me to “at least pretend to eat something,” like he could bully me into healing.
Even Adam and Brody came by, their voices cajoling, I could hear them downstairs with Chase.Trying to get me to the pub, “She just needs to be around people,” Adam said, but I couldn’t do it.I couldn't even face Brody...When I thought about him, all I could see was what he must have witnessed when he first came into my apartment that morning.I saw the dark circles and haunted expressions of my family.But the idea of seeing that look, seeing pity or something worse on Brody.I couldn't face it yet.
I knew I needed to face him, I needed to...thank him.
I definitely wasn’t ready to be out in the open, where the whispers would be loud and people could stare.
So I buried myself in Mason’s mess instead.
Hours blurred into days spent hunched over his laptop, spreadsheets open, untangling contracts and cross-referencing invoices.It wasn’t glamorous work, but it kept me from thinking too hard about myself.It gave my hands something to do when my mind refused to rest.And slowly, painfully, I started making progress.
Andrew hadn’t pressed charges against Brody or Mason, but the threat hung in the air like a storm waiting to break.My dad kept reminding me our lawyer was on it, that we had witnesses, statements, photographs, everything we needed, but I still woke up in a cold sweat sometimes, choking on a scream, imagining Andrew telling a different story and people believing him.
