I nod. I don’t trust my voice to work.
Ben continues, his voice gentler now. “You’re hurting, Lina, and I hate that. But you have to want to help yourself. I won’t force you to talk to anyone, but promise me you’ll think about it. Therapy can be a lifeline for survivors.”
Survivors.
Is that what I am?
I don’t feel like one. I feel like something splintered, beaten down, broken open, and discarded more times than I can count. Survivors rise. They fight their way out and come back stronger. I’m just trying to stay afloat. But maybe that’s part of surviving too.
“I’ll think about it,” I say at last, and Ben’s shoulders ease, just slightly.
“That’s all I ask,” he says. “Come on. Let’s head back.”
This time, I fall into step beside him. The air feels a little cooler now, the shadows longer.
I keep going.
One foot in front of the other. One step closer to protecting myself.
Chapter 19
The rest of October blurs by in a flurry of homework, routine, and the occasional chaos that comes with living in a house full of boys. Before I know it, it’s the Friday before Halloween, and the entire student body is practically vibrating with anticipation. I’ve never been a huge fan of the holiday, and I haven’t dressed up since I was a kid, but even I can admit the buzz in the air is contagious.
“Are you going to the party at Caleb’s tonight?” Jessie asks, plopping down beside me at lunch.
“No,” I say at the exact same time Axel says, “Yes.”
I shoot him a dirty look. “Excuse you?”
He just shrugs, completely unbothered. “We’re going.”
“Who the hell is Caleb?”
“He’s on the football team,” Jessie chimes in. “His parents are out of town for some fancy Halloween gala. He’s invited the entire senior class. Zero parental supervision.” She raises her eyebrows meaningfully.
“You know what that means…” Rachel sing-songs from across the table.
“Booze and boobs!” she and Jessie yell in unison before collapsing into laughter.
I blink at them. “That sounds… horrifying.”
“It sounds like high school,” Axel says dryly, stealing a fry off my tray.
Frowning, I ask, “Maryanne and Ben are cool with this?”
“As long as we tell them where we’ll be and promise not to drink and drive, yeah. We're adults.” He gestures to himself. “Well, I am. You’re almost there.”
“When’s your birthday?” Nik asks, suddenly more interested in the conversation.
“January, I reply”
He hums thoughtfully. “Capricorn?”
“Yeah…”
Makes sense.”
I scrunch my nose. “What doesthatmean?”
