Adults refused to look deeper to see the monster beneath the sheep’s clothing.
“You knew,” Peyton says quietly after a few minutes have passed.
I stare straight ahead. “Knew what?”
“That he was scared.”
Something sharp twists beneath my ribs.
She noticed that, too.
I exhale slowly through my nose. “You don’t forget what that looks like.”
The second the words leave my mouth, I regret them. Not because Peyton will use it against me. Because I hate admitting any of this out loud.
The silence that follows feels different now. Heavier. More aware.
Peyton turns slightly toward me in her seat. “Daltyn?—”
“I don’t want to talk about it.” The words come out colder than I intend.
I feel her recoil slightly beside me. Guilt slams into me.
But the problem is, if I start talking about this? I’m not sure I’ll be able to stop.
And I can’t fucking breathe right now as it is.
The rest of the drive passes in strained silence.
By the time we pull into the cabin driveway, my chest feels packed full of broken glass.
I barely remember parking.
Peyton unbuckles slowly beside me. “Do you want me to make coffee or something?”
Jesus Christ.
Even now, she’s trying to take care of me.
The realization nearly destroys what little control I have left.
“I’m fine.”
It’s a lie.
I’m fucking drowning.
I climb out of the SUV before she can say anything else.
Cold mountain air punches into my lungs as I stalk toward the cabin. My pulse pounds harder with every step.
The front door barely closes behind me before memories start crashing harder.
My father grabbing my arm hard enough to bruise.
My mother crying quietly in the bathroom.
Broken dishes littering the kitchen floor.
