“You promised it would be different,” she said, and I could tell she’d been crying. I almost felt bad for her but she didn’t deserve my sympathy, not after all the things she’d said and done.

“It is different,” he said. “It’s been different. I’m different. You’re the one who hasn’t changed. You’re the only one stuck in the past.”

“Fuck you, don’t lie to me! Just. Don’t.”

She was disdain, and he, resentment. The things they argued about changed, but the script remained the same.

Angry stomps. A frustrated growl from Mom. Glass shattered against the floor.

I felt a tug on my wrist and was surprised when I turned to see Elise. Shame burned through me. They aren’t usually like this, I wanted to say, the lie locked and loaded. Everything’s fine, everything’s fine, I wanted to tell her.

I’m normal, I’m happy, I’m like everyone else. That’s what I wanted people to see, what I allowed them to see.

By this point, Christian and I were both experts at keeping our two lives separate. The unspoken rules were simple: always hang out at other people’s houses and avoid bringing friends home, especially if we knew they’d be there.

I hadn’t even let Cameron pick me up unless they were both at work. Melody lived on the other side of town, but when we were kids I went to her house almost every afternoon and her mom or dad would drive me home in the evening.

Cameron had no idea, and while Melody may have suspected something was wrong, she never explicitly said anything.

A slipup, that’s what it was. Bad luck that we went inside when we did. They weren’t supposed to be awake. And now someone had glimpsed the truth about them. About me.

Elise’s expression was unreadable. Our eyes locked and I winced at the sound of more glasses and plates being shattered above us, punctuating angry screams that tore through the house. I wondered if Christian was home, if he was upstairs in his room, headphones squeezed on tight in the dark. If it even bothered him anymore or if he was now immune, safe in the knowledge he’d always have Mom, protected by the only person who had any real power in this family.

“Are they always like this?” she asked.

Elise’s eyes were kind. Soft, warm. A safe harbor.

“Come on,” she said, two fingers still hooked around my wrist. “Let’s go.”

“Go where?” I said, feet heavy, limbs frozen. I wanted to disappear, hide in my room, crawl into my closet until the storm ended. I wanted to escape Elise’s searching gaze.

“To my house.”

“No, it’s okay.” But I did want to go with her. I wanted to escape that house. Though maybe what I wanted to escape most was that life.

“I think you like it,” my mother said upstairs, breath hitching. “I think you like me like this. Weak, powerless. Begging.”

“You have all the power,” my father said. “You’ve always had all the power.”