I turn to him, confused. “Why?”
“Mum was getting worse. He had to send us somewhere,” he says, his voice unreadable. “He wasn’t going to hire another babysitter after last time.”
I nod slowly, understanding exactly what he means. A few years ago, Gabriel had hired Kai, Wren, and Elliot a babysitter who had taken advantage of Kai and groomed Wren, which she has only recently admitted. I wasn’t aware of this all, of course, not until Berlin had told me the woman had been arrested on the charges of sexual assault, and exploitation, among other things.
But no one knows what happened at the orphanage.
“What… d-did they d-do to you?” I force out the words, a lump forming in my throat.
Kai doesn’t look at me. Instead, he looks past me, through me, like he’s seeing something that isn’t there. “What didthosemen do toyou?” he says, and I stop breathing.
He knows.
He knows.
I remember the first time like it happened yesterday. Mostly because Berlin had warned me about it earlier that day.
You don’t need to like me. Just lock your doors tonight, P.
That’s what she had said. And I didn’t listen.
“Berlin?” I ask the darkness.
But when the figure finally steps into the light, I see it isn’t my sister.
But a man.
The rain drips from my fingertips, my clothes clinging to my skin, but suddenly I feel hot, suffocated. My chest tightens, and for a moment, I swear the ground beneath me tilts.
“That. And more,” Kai adds quietly.
“H-how?” My voice barely comes out.
Kai turns his gaze back to me then, slowly. And this time, he doesn’t look away.
He lifts a hand, pointing to his ears.
Oh my god.
“W-was it…?” I can’t even finish the sentence. My throat closes around the words.
Kai nods.
“Who else k-knows?” I whisper, already terrified of the answer.
“No one else knows,” he says firmly, but somehow it doesn’t reassure me.
“My bedroom was right next to yours.”
I remember now. I had seen him, coming and going every now and then when the Steele’s would stay over. But I had never thought—never even considered—
I swallow, suddenly nauseous.
We don’t have to say it. What it is he knows, what it is he heard, what it is he experienced. I’d say he understands perfectly well.
Then, after a long moment, he asks, “How many times?”
I bite my lip, trying to fight back the shake in my hands. “A couple,” I say. A lie.A lot.
