Page 83 of He Hate Me

“I don’t think we work, Brandon,” I say, the words feeling like broken glass in my throat.

“We work. But that’s not what I want to talk to you about. And it’s not safe for you to go home.”

“Get out of my way, Brandon. I’m not in the mood for this.”

“Check your text messages.”

I fish my phone out of my backpack and see the message from my mom.

Go with Brandon.

“What the hell?” I unlock my phone and text her back.

Do you really want me to go with Brandon? Why?

The reply comes back in under a minute.

I’ll explain later, but please go with him to Rourke’s. Whatever you do, do not go home.

“Did you hack my mom’s phone or something?”

“I’m not even holding anything. How could I be the one texting you?”

“Right.” I have no idea what’s going on, but I figure I have no choice but to go with him. I unlock the car and he climbs into the driver’s seat, holding his palm up for the keys. I ignore him and get in before handing it to him. He doesn’t say much as he exits the parking lot. We pass Shelby and Mackenzie standing by Kenzie’s car talking. Probably about me. Their eyes follow us as we pull away from campus.

“Did something happen to Devin?” I ask.

“I’ll explain at Rourke’s,” he says, woodenly. “It’s a long and complicated story.”

“But he’s involved?”

“Yes. And so am I.”

“You did something?” I ask, alarmed. He shakes his head.

“There’s so much you don’t know, Deja, I barely know where to start. Let’s go to Rourke’s, have something to eat, and I’ll tell you as much as I can.”

He reaches over and turns on the radio, loudly enough to silence my questions.

Brandon opens his laptop, handing me a can of sparkling water. I take sip of the grapefruit flavored liquid and place the can on the coffee table, waiting to see what he’ll do next. He’s been extremely secretive since we got here, answering my questions with “soon” and “you’ll see for yourself.” But now it’s finally time. I wonder if he’s going to show me surveillance video from the house. But how would he even get that?

He double clicks on a video file, and it starts playing, filling the screen. I’m shocked to recognize the room, though I don’t remember Devin ever coming to our house. The camera points at the old sofa I hid behind a time or two playing hide and go seek. Devin’s sitting on it, and beside him is a much younger Lindsey. They start talking, and soon I’m feeling queasy and confused. What is going on? Why is she doing those things. I hear my mother’s voice and then my father walks into the frame.

“When is this from?” I ask Brandon, more and more disturbed as the video progresses.

Brandon drags the cursor to the top of the screen, showing me the date in the filename. It’s about ten years ago.

“Turn it off!” I tell him when the sexual assault starts. I stare down at my hands, not wanting to believe what I just saw my father and stepfather doing.

“Can you just tell me?” I say. “I don’t want to ever look at something like that again.”

“Are you sure,” he asks, squeezing my fingers. “It’s not the easiest stuff to hear.”

“You wanted me to know,” I snap, an irrational burst of anger taking over for a moment. I’m not being fair, but I can’t begin to process this.

“Those DVDs we found in the basement were exactly what you thought they were—sex tapes. The first one they mostly mess with her, but on the rest there’s actual…r-word.”

He’s using a euphemism for something horrible, but I get it. The victim is his mother. I can’t imagine watching someone do that to someone I love.