I have to look away from him just to push through the rest of the story. “Anyway, one night, the parents were gone, and he tried to touch me even though we were in the living room with Ant watching TV. And I didn’t think. I just got so angry at him for putting me in that position. And there was a steak knife close by—we’d eaten dinner on the couch. I can’t even tell you what happened. Just that one moment it was on the table, and the next it was in my hand, and I was stabbing him in the shoulder. Like a maniac. Then I just…lost time.”

I have to let out a long breath I didn’t realize I was holding until I ran out of air, but I keep going. “I guess they took me to some kind of psych ward for a twenty-four-hour hold. And the people there were really sympathetic. They kept saying I was traumatized by what I saw. They spoke to me with these gentle voices, and they seemed to understand when I said I didn’t want to talk about what happened. I didn’t get it. I didn’t understand.”

I swallow down the painful lump that’s formed in my throat. “But when I got home, Ant was gone. He took the fall. He told them he was the one who stabbed the older brother, and I guess they figured he was just some violent Brown kid. So they sent him away with real violent kids. And he became what he became. And there was nothing I could do. Everyone thought I was lying to try to save him, and the foster mom ended up sending me away too when I refused to take back what I said. So yeah, I lost it. And now Ant’s a criminal just like my dad, who never did anything for my mom or me. And yeah, that’s all my fault.”

I've been living with this situation for a long time, and everything inside of me feels old as I tell Waylon the story, completely dry-eyed. The old anger sparks as I recount what happened—what was done to me. But the old guilt douses it with dirty water, screaming that everything that happened was all my fault.

“Ant wouldn't be a criminal if I hadn’t done that,” I point out to Waylon. “Maybe he would've become a professional or something if not for me.”

Waylon made me understand why he was the way he was, and I’m expecting him to understand something after telling him my story. That I’m not worth this house. That I’m not worth any of the obsessive feelings he thinks he has for me.