“It’s like, I know it’s not true, but I can’t help but hope. And sometimes it is true, at least for a while. Before this”—she lifted the bruised shoulder a little—“it’d been almost two months. It’s gotten better since we moved here. All the money my grandparents left me helped, dating The Realtor’s helped.” That’s what she still called her father’s girlfriend.

“There are gradations,” she said. “And it could be worse. It could always be worse.”

“I don’t know,” I said.

“You know my mom left when I was a kid. She just packed up her things and never looked back.” She flicked her cigarette over the ledge, watched as it spun out of view. “She never hit me or anything, but sometimes I can’t decide what’s worse.”

“What do you mean?” The stars were out in full force that night, the sky clear, the moon dark.

“I don’t know. In the end my dad stayed. Maybe that counts for something.” She sounded lost in thought. “That has to count for something, right?” It was shocking to hear her talk about her father like that. Why was she trying to redeem him?

“You’re defending him?” I said, so confused. I pulled back, rewrapping the blanket around me.

“No,” she said carefully. “I’m not defending him, I’m just saying—forget it.”

“What?”

“It’s easier, isn’t it, to just run away? Like my mom did, like your dad’s always doing.” Elise was completely still, her eyes piercing. She was saying that her father wasn’t a complete monster and that was hard for me to comprehend. What he did was unforgivable. She’d been so clear about it the night before but now she sounded uncertain.

I pulled her lighter out and began flipping the top up and down absently, letting the swoosh and clicks comfort me. I still thought of it as hers, then.

“My mom didn’t have to leave me behind. She could’ve just left my dad,” Elise pushed on. “She didn’t have to, but she left me anyway.”

I struggled to understand how her mom’s actions could excuse her dad’s violence, but she seemed so sure of her conclusions that I didn’t push back. The silence and smoke surrounded us, the cold night numbing my fingers as I held on to my cigarette, unsure of what to say, how to help her.

“You know what I learned, Rem? Love isn’t enough. Love doesn’t make people stay.” Her voice was rising, her words growing rushed and uneven. “Do you know what makes people stay? Need. My mother left me behind because she didn’t need me.”

“What’s the difference?” I shook my head. “Love, need, it’s all the same. You love someone, you need them,” I said, but doubt crept in, my heart faltering.

“You could say it means the same thing. Or you could say that true love is pure need.” Elise sounded so wise beyond her years, like she had all the answers.

I remained quiet, confused.

“I need you, Remy,” she said softly. What she was saying: I love you.