“I saw the way my mom looked at him,” I said. “I saw how afraid she was every time he spoke, every time he moved. And I —” My voice broke, and I hated how it sounded. Hated the way my own mind berated me for it. “Every second of every day I spent in that house, I was afraid. I was never safe there. He couldn’t control himself. He didn’t care. He wanted to cause pain. It made him feel powerful. And you know what really fucking sucks? I loved him. Mom loved him. What do you do when you love someone so goddamn much that you’ll let them hurt you and even let them destroy you? Just hoping they’ll love you back? Hoping you’ll earn it?”

The tightness had broken. I felt so raw I shuddered, and Jess’s fingers swiped gently at my cheeks. Well, fuck, the tears were coming and they weren’t going to stop.

“How am I any better?” The words tasted bitter in my mouth. “How am I any fucking better than him? It’s like he infected me, Jess, his genes are a fucking cancer. The way we play…even though we call it a game…I hurt you and I like it. I like the way you sound, the way you look when I do it. I crave seeing you suffer for me. How the fuck is that okay?”

I was spiraling, and I saw no way out. The darkness around me was only growing, and I swore it would suffocate me.

I wanted to speak, but I hated my own words. I wanted someone to understand, but I also didn’t want anyone to know. These weren’t things that were easy to admit. They were dark, panicked thoughts that lurked at the back of my brain, packed away right next to tightly sealed memories of my childhood. I could try to lock them away, but I couldn’t hide them when they lived in the same house, when they echoed in the walls, specters of pain lurking in every corner.

“I’m broken, Jess.” I took her hands in mine, enfolding her fingers and kissing them.

I could smell Lucas on her, and it reminded me of all the times when it was only him and I. When he’d meet me out here in the dark, or I’d pick him up in the Bronco and drive around until we found somewhere to sleep. All the breakdowns neither of us knew how to handle, because we’d only been kids trying to figure out how to grow up alone. Holding each other through tears and rages, hoping that if we clung tightly enough, we wouldn’t lose each other.

I clung to her hands the same way, with words I couldn’t say. I’d lose her because I wasn’t good enough, because I was too broken, too fucked in the head.