7.
10.
“You’re not supposed to lie in there,” he said, realizing he sounded like one of those
self-help stupid brochures and hating himself for it. He gestured numbly towards the site
of the sessions. “We’re supposed to be honest – and you’ve never mentioned any of
that.”
“I am honest,” she said easily. Her expression was perfect, neutrality written across every
feature. She kept her sleeves rolled up. “The day we met, I just left some stuff out on how I
got to the point I am now. I didn’t think telling you about my psychopath of a stepfather
would be a good way to kick off our friendship.” She chewed on her lip thoughtfully. “I
think of it as ‘selective sharing.’”
“Jesus, it was your dad –”
“Stepdad –”
“That did this –” He touched his arms gingerly, then his throat, remembering that first day
they’d met.
She nodded in reply. He thought her mindset must be worse than his. “And you forgave
him for it?” She paused for a second. Anyone that didn’t know her would think she was
just faltering slightly, not pondering the weight of the question. “I’m working on it,” she said
finally. “I really am. Some days I’ll be fine, and the next moment everything comes back
again, and I’m a complete mess. But I figure that, when I finally do forgive him, I’ll also
stop being so scared.”
“Scared of him?”
She shook her head so vigorously that it surprised him. “What I’m scared of is what’s
going to happen after I finally do let go of what he did. I’m absolutely terrified of what
I’ll become – how my life will be. But scared of my stepdad? Not anymore.” He gaped
at her as she lowered her chin. “You have to be afraid of him,” he said hesitantly. He
sounded hollow and small – because somewhere deep inside, if she was afraid, he
wouldn’t feel so alone. “No,” she said immediately, and for the longest time afterwards,
he didn’t know if she was lying or not. “I’m not scared one bit.”
“Nothing,” he said haltingly.
8.
Then she stopped abruptly and gripped his shoulder tightly. He smelled the lingering
scent of her coffee, which mixed in with the autumn leaves, as her nails dug into his flesh.
She stared at him, her eyes the same color as the cracked pavement.
“So,” she breathed. Her ghosts danced around them wildly, and his ached to follow.
“What happened to you?”
9.
Six months ago, my little brother died because of me.
48
11.
And like usual, she saw right through him. “Stop hiding,” she snarled. So he steeled himself
silently and did just that.
12.
“It was Brenna Lauer,” he said heavily. “She was talking to me about hanging out and
getting dinner and I had the address to this restaurant inside so I walked into the house
to get it and turned my back to the driveway because it was just for one second.”
Then everything played out once again, just like it had every night for the past six months
– a horrible skid of metal against flesh, a smear of blood on the ground, a baby-blue
baseball cap on the pavement. “I remember his hat,” he whispered, and he felt the thin
tears streak down his cheeks. “It was his favorite hat, and he used to wear it all the time. I
can’t even remember what his fucking body looked like, but I remember that stupid, stupid
hat just lying there on the street. God – God, this is my fault! Goddammit, and I’m thinking,
‘What the hell have I done?’ and the driver’s screaming and I’m screaming and – dear
God, what have I done?” She looked at him like she was waking up. “Dear Lord,” she
said softly. “It was my fault,” he said through gritted teeth. “My mom can’t look at me now
– my dad tries to pretend it never happened. The door to Levi’s room is always closed,
because if we go in we’ll either cry or break whatever we can see. Everything is because
of me – because I thought a five-year-old kid was invulnerable to the goddamn world.
So I can’t forgive the driver because even though she was the one at the wheel, she’s
not the one who’s to blame for all this!” It all came back to Levi – every second of the
past six months