Chapter Thirty-Eight
Help? Help, Sadie?! I tried that. There isn’t anyone who can help me.”
“Come back, and I will kill you.”
“Truth is subjective.”
“She needs to make her own choices.”
“Open your eyes, girl. You are the only one who can see the truth.”
My eyes open with a deep inhale. I scan the dark room, orienting myself. I’m in the small conference room.
I push up to sit.
The voices still echo.
The Maiden’s the last to fade.
“Hey.” Collin crouches beside me.
I’m breathing heavily. My lungs remembering their job.
“You freak me out every time that happens.”
I focus on evening out my breaths. My head feels light. The room’s a bit slanted.
Collin pulls out his phone. “Jonathan’s on his way back here.”
“What?” I ask, closing my eyes and righting my world again. Except it isn’t.
“Jonathan,” Collin repeats in exaggerated slowness. “He went to Clara’s after he left here, to meet us. Except… you went all armadillo or whatever. Now he’s on his way back.”
“I have to go.”
“Where? He’s coming here.”
I stand and release a slow breath, using the wall for balance. Collin’s still talking. I’m not listening. The only thing I can hear is my father’s betrayal.
“Sadie! Where are you going?” he asks with impatience.
“Wait here for Jonathan,” I tell him, picking up my pace as I near the reception area. I leave Collin outside the elevator, running his fingers through his hair.
My phone pings and buzzes in my pocket when I reach my car. I turn it off.
Iarrive home to an empty house.
The pain is gone.
I am numb.
I open the office door. It isn’t locked. It never is. Yet there’s at least one secret hidden inside. Both Jonathan and my father told me it exists.
“After everything you know? You promised to help me!”
Jonathan’s words are still so loud in my mind. His mislaid trust is why I’m here.
With every drawer I open and file I sift through, I’m breaking my father’s confidences. But he broke Jonathan’s long ago.
I’m methodical, flipping open books and shaking their spines. I don’t rush or make a mess. I put everything back exactly where it belongs.
I wiggle open the bottom drawer of the antique roll-top desk—a decorative piece since the polished cherry wood desk replaced it years ago.
The drawer’s uneven and takes finessing to maneuver.
It’s stacked with drawings and noodle art, homemade cards and school awards.
I flip layer after layer until I find a large white envelope near the bottom.
Too pristine to belong in here. I hesitate before I touch it.
When I lift the thick envelope, the weight surprises me. The tug on my heart lets me know the numbness will subside soon. And I need to be alone for what comes next.
What’s inside is worse than I could’ve imagined. I’m not prepared for the pain.
Everything hurts. It’s swift and sharp. And has me wishing for nothingness again. Instead of everything. All at once.
I’ve always wanted to make a difference in a thousand different ways. But none of it matters. Not when the people I love are being hurt. And are also doing the hurting.
How can I live in a world where both the truth and lies cause so much destruction?
What are you doing in the dark?” my mother asks, flipping on the kitchen lights. “Is this a save the environment thing? I don’t think we can live by candlelight for one of your causes. Sorry, Sadie.”
My mother’s distracted, hanging their jackets and removing her shoes. My father is the first to notice.
My puffy red eyes prepare him for a different conversation. “Oh, Sadie. I’m sorry.”
Mom turns, wearing an instant expression of concern. “What is it?”
It takes a moment for my father to notice the handwritten pages and photos scattered on the dining table.
“What did he—”
But then he sees what I’ve discovered. His gaze flicks to mine. I stare back.
“What is this?” my mother asks, approaching the table with apprehension. She slides the pages and pictures around to get a better look. The blood drains from her face. She turns to my father. Dad is too far away to see their details. But he knows exactly what they are. “Eli? What am I looking at?”
He doesn’t move. Doesn’t speak. His ethics and oath challenged. And when he does open his mouth, he lies.
“There was nothing I could do.”
I slap the table, making my mother jump. “Stop lying!”
“Sadie,” she scolds, more out of habit than conviction.
“How long has he been paying you to look the other way?” My voice is flat and emotionless.
“Is that what you really believe?” He scoffs like I’m being dramatic.
“I’m hoping that’s what it is. Because otherwise, it means you chose to do nothing after receiving picture after picture.
Written details of every slap. Punch. Burn.
Choke hold. Broken bone.” I lean on the table, eyeing the man who I trusted more than anyone.
The person I went to when my world felt too big.
The father who promised to protect me. I never imagined it would be from the truth.
My voice is unfamiliar to me. It’s wrapped in barbs and poisonous thorns. “He was a child when he came to you for help. A boy, the age his brother is now. He was scared and hurt. He asked you for help, and all you did was keep a file! A collection of brutality. For what? For what, Dad?! Tell me!”
“I did the best that I could to keep him out of trouble. I tried to help him find a different path.”
Than his father. He doesn’t say it, but I can hear the words. And Hal’s father.
“Did Hal’s father hurt him too?” I ask. “Did you know? Or maybe you didn’t, and that’s why you won’t do anything now. Because you feel like you owe him?”
Pain flashes in his eyes.
“Is that true, Eli?” My mother recognizes it too.
“It was even harder back then. Discipline had a fist or a belt, and there wasn’t anyone to protect him. It was just the way it was. Never right, but accepted. We promised to leave this town, get away from his father. But he stayed… and became him.”
When Mom turns her gaze to me, there’s a storm of confusion and pain clouding her blue eyes.
“It’s hard to know what to do when we watch the people we love being hurt.”
I’m unable to decipher her emotions. Whether she’s seeking compassion for my father. Or mourning his betrayal.
“You were my age when you were Hal’s best friend and wanted to help him. And I know how powerless it can feel. But you’re not now. You’re my dad. And you swore to protect the people who don’t have anyone. You’ve told me my entire life that you want to keep them from becoming part of the problem.”
“Why do you think I changed sides? Because I can’t protect them!
” He sounds like he’s barely hanging on, fingertips gripping the edge of a cliff.
“I kept losing, no matter how many cases I won. There’s no breaking the cycle once they walk in my door.
They’re already in it. Maybe I can end it from the other side.
Convict the ones perpetuating it. Cycle break from above. I don’t know how else to do it.”
“Sounds like you gave up,” I say, a tear clinging to my lashes. “Because my dad, the one I grew up idolizing, would never have returned the boy I love back to the father who did this to him.”
I jam my finger on the pictures.
Mom clutches her chest. “Eli?”
“You broke my heart today, Dad.” My voice cracks. I struggle to get the words out. “Don’t make Jonathan stay in that house one more night. Don’t let his father control his future. And don’t you decide mine.”
“Sadie.” My dad says my name like it’s a plea for forgiveness.
I won’t give it.
“Because if anything happens to Jonathan—anything at all—that’s on you. And I’ll never forgive you.”
I gather the papers and photos and walk past my stunned parents.
“Where are you going?” Mom calls after me.
I don’t answer. I grab my jacket and pull open the door.
I have to do the one thing my father never tried to do.
My body trembles with an emotion unfamiliar to me. Rage. I accelerate out of the driveway. My breathing’s erratic. I want to scream at the world. For now, I let loose in my car.
Image after image. Bruise after bruise. The broken arm that was never from a tree, but from a shove off a roof. Tears blur the lines on the road. I blink rapidly to clear them.
Fear doesn’t fuel my adrenaline this time. Anger feeds the pounding in my chest. It pumps through my veins. It’s blinding. But also narrows my focus.
I turn down the driveway. I do not slow.
Dirt and rocks pelt the undercarriage.
I slam to a stop.
Headlights shining upon the man I came here to find.
Hal meets me halfway.
“You shouldn’t be here.”
“You should never have been a father.”
“Excuse me, young lady?”
I swallow back the venom at the back of my throat. “I saw what you did. How many times you hurt him. You’re a cruel, evil man.”
“I don’t know what you think you—”
“I saw!” I scream. He turns his head toward the house. “I saw what you did!”
He takes a step toward me. I don’t back away. My nails dig into my palms.
“You better keep your voice down.” It’s not the words, but the low growl, that has me searching is eyes.
They may be the same onyx shade, but it isn’t his son I see. The darkness within these eyes is an endless chasm.
“What are you doing here?” Each word is emphasized. Spit sprays onto my cheeks.
A deep ache rises to the surface. “Never again.”
He continues to stare.
“He can’t come back here.”
“That’s not up to you.”
I look past him to the house. Lights shine through the large windows.
“Does she know?” I make a move toward the steps. He snatches my arm faster than I can gasp.
“Don’t you dare.”
Clenching my teeth, I match his seething glare. “He doesn’t come back. Let them visit him. Don’t mess with our future. Let him go. Or I’ll show her what you did to her son. Every cut. Every bruise.”
“You’re making the terms, little girl? Is that it?” Hal releases a patronizing laugh. But it lands flat. He doesn’t have the power.
His grip tightens on my arm. I don’t look away. I know what he’s capable of.
I fight to silence the voice begging me to leave. Instead, I reach for the reminder within my heart, telling me to stay.
“I have terms of my own. Give me whatever proof you have. And he can stay where he’s at ’til college.”
“Not gonna happen,” I bite back despite the quivering overtaking me.
He releases me with a shove. I collide with my car. “I see why he likes you. Not very smart, but full of vigor.” His mouth quirks. “Don’t be stupid, girl.”
I find my spine and stand to my full height. “You didn’t pay for my protection, Hal. I have no problem letting everyone in this town know exactly what kind of man you are.”
Something switches off. His humanity. His soul. There’s nothing there except pure hatred. “Get off my land.”
A tremor of fear replaces the adrenaline fueling my defiance. “Not until you agree.”
When Hal takes another step, I cannot escape.
“I won’t stand in the way of his mother and brother seeing him.
And I won’t hold back any of the money that’s rightfully his.
But if either of you steps one foot on my land again, I will protect what’s mine.
” He lowers his gaze to mine, hands on the car, trapping me. “Do we have an understanding?”
Rage rolls off him like noxious fumes. It’d only take a strike of a match to cause an explosion.
I nod, unwilling to look away despite the cold fear slithering up my spine. It isn’t a man staring back at me. This is what a true monster looks like.
Idon’t remember the drive home. Or where my parents were when I entered the house. The first moment I come back into myself is when I open my bedroom door to find Jonathan sitting on the edge of my bed, holding his head with his elbows digging into his thighs.
He raises his head, relief sweeping across his face. I shut the door and lock it. He stands, and I rush into his arms, the suppressed fear rippling through my body in waves of tremors.
“Where have you been? Why are you shaking?”
I hold him tighter, listening to his heart pounding against my ear. The proof of life. Of love. That he is here and not the eleven-year-old with bruises on his ribs. Or the twelve-year-old with a broken arm. Or the fourteen-year-old with stitches on the back of his head. He’s safe.
“Sadie,” Jonathan says into my hair when I don’t let go. “Talk to me.”
I release a shuddering breath and ease out of his embrace.
I kick off my shoes and swipe the clothes from my bed. Jonathan follows my lead and props the pillows up against the headboard so he can sit. I crawl into his arms and rest my head on his chest again.
“Collin told me about your panic attack at the office. Are you okay?”
I nod. “Are you after my dad betrayed you? I can’t believe he did that.”
“Me neither.” I can hear the hurt in his words. “I trusted him.”
“So did I.” I swallow the lump in my throat, fighting back the tears. I don’t want to cry again. I’m so tired of crying. My entire body is exhausted. “I couldn’t breathe. He wanted to take you away from me. And then when your father… I couldn’t breathe.”
Jonathan whispers, as if afraid to know, “Where’d you go?”
“To find the truth.”
I suddenly realize I may have betrayed Jonathan’s trust when I looked at the pictures he gave to my dad. I jolt upright, prepared to plead for his forgiveness.
“What is it?” Fear flashes across his face.
“I found the pictures in my dad’s files,” I tell him. “I know they weren’t for me. I’m sorry if I—”
“It’s alright.” He sags against the pillow in relief. “You scared me. I mean, I don’t love that you had to see them. But I kept it a secret from you for years. I’m sorry.”
“They made me so angry. Jonathan, I have never felt so much rage in my entire life. It’s like I was on fire. I couldn’t see clearly. I couldn’t control anything. I just wanted to blow up the world. Which I kinda did. My world anyway.”
“What does that mean?” he asks, not following.
“My dad needed to know how much he hurt me. I don’t regret what I said to him. Not a word.” I brace myself when I confess, “Then… I went to see yours.”
“You did what?” His face floods with color. His words are a rush of panic. “Are you kidding?”
“I needed to protect you,” I explain urgently.
“You went by yourself?” His eyes flit over my body, like he’s expecting to find an injury.
“Someone had to.” I cup his cheek. “You’re worth protecting.”
The shock dissipates, and his eyes glisten with emotion. “I’m not ready to hear the details. But you went there to protect me…” He blinks, redirecting his gaze to the ceiling, to rein in the vulnerability he rarely reveals. When he turns his attention to me again, I only see love. “That was brave.”
“Or reckless,” I mutter. He lets out a chuckle. I’m still trembling. “You can never go back there.” It’s more a plea than a statement.
“I know,” he replies, brushing his knuckles over my cheek. “I don’t plan to, not while he’s alive.”
“I won’t let him hurt you.” I bury my face in his chest. “Never again.”