I cried and looked over at my dad. “I want to go home.”
“That’s where we’re going.” His tears stopped, and he looked at me. “Take my hand, Avery. We’ll go together.”
Wherever he was planning on taking me was not home, and I didn’t want to go. My eyes fell to his hand. It was shaking. I didn’t want to take it. But he looked so sad.
Sad.
Sad.
Sad.
I should take it.
“Avery, please!” he yelled.
Panic.
Panic.
Panic.
That was all I felt as I buckled my seat belt again.
“Stop it! Stop it!” he shouted, grabbing my hands to try and stop me.
I fought against him.
He was so angry. He was never angry.
A car horn blared, and he pulled his hand back to the steering wheel and gripped it tightly. His chest was heaving as he focused all of his attention in front of him. I wasn’t sure how, but we increased our speed just a fraction. The sound of the wind invading the car competed with my screams.
“I hope it’s fast for you, sweet pea.” Suddenly, he swerved to the left and then jerked the wheel to the right, crashing through the tiny guardrail.
And I was flying.
Flying.
Flying.
Flying.
And then we crashed.
I felt everything.
And then nothing.
Nothing.
Nothing.
Nothing.
29
Liam
Ihad a pretty high threshold when it came to pain tolerance, but watching Avery fall apart in my arms was one of the most excruciating feelings I’d ever experienced. Every cry she wailed, every breath she struggled to take, and every tear that fell to the ground, I wanted to take it away. I wanted to erase her torment and her fear. But there was nothing I could do, except make sure she didn’t go through it alone.
