I don’t give her a choice, taking the stairs to my place three at a time. I fill up Cash’s water dish and drink a full glass from the tap before turning the shower to hot and jumping in. After thirty seconds, where I perform the fastest hair rinse and body scrub-down in the history of mankind, I’m dressed and throwing open the front door of my parents’ house.

“The Detroit Free Press called, and”—I refresh my phone—“I now have five emails from various outlets looking to talk about the hearing. What happened?”

“The victims have hired a lawyer. They plan to sue for damages.”

“Sue who? He’s in jail.”

“And they want to keep him there, but if they can’t, this is the next-best solution in their minds,” Brian says quietly. My younger siblings have gone to bed, but Rachel and Evie are sitting at the dining room table, ignoring the steaming cups of tea my mom has placed before them.

She motions to a third for me, and I jerk my head in a silent response like, Really, Mom?

“Fine by me,” I say. “He can rot.”

“You don’t believe that. He’s your father.”

“He’s not,” I say, obstinate.

Brian clears his throat. “Micah, there’s more. The video is making the rounds on the news again.”

I stop in my tracks. The room tilts, and my stomach lurches.

“So far only a few local stations, but—”

My breath strangles in my throat. “Jesus.”

“We called the station right away,” my mom says. “Telling them to cease and desist playing the clip. Brian contacted his lawyer, too. You were a minor, so they can’t legally show it on the news. Unfortunately, that does little to stop people from using it on the internet. The source is private, and it’s nearly impossible to track them all down.”

I sink onto the couch, burying my head in my hands with a groan. “When will this end?”

“I’m so sorry, Micah.”

“I was thirteen,” I say. “I had no idea what was happening. He lied to me over and over, and I believed him because he was my dad!” I’m pulling at the ends of my hair and shaking my head. “Why can’t they leave me alone?”

“They want to make an example out of your father. This has nothing to do with you,” my mom insists.

“That’s all well and good, Mom, but regardless, I’m once again the poster child for religious hypocrisy. Did you know I asked a girl to homecoming freshman year, and her mom made her tell me no because I might grow up to be a sex predator? She actually said that to me. Just like that. Kids would hide their wallets in PE when I was around. I’ve finally started getting past it all, and it’s happening again.”