Chapter 25
TWENTY-FIVE
Ihit the floor hard and for a few moments, there’s nothing—no sound, no thought, just white-hot pain flashing through every nerve like lightning.
There’s this dull ringing in my ears, which is annoyingly persistent. And my body screams at me, every nerve, every bone, but I just lie there stunned.
Did that really just happen?
The realisation seeps in slowly, like cold water creeping into my veins. Did I seriously just get thrown down my own stairs?
She pushed me.
Footsteps crash down the stairs, suddenly too loud for my ears to withstand. I hear her voice next, frantic and desperate. “Addie! Oh my god, Addie, I’m so sorry!”
Sorry. Sorry? The word practically taunts me, and I let out a bitter, broken laugh before I can stop myself. Now she’s sorry? After everything—after all the years of blame and silence and being left alone in my own pain.
Another breath. Another step. My legs feel like they might give out, but I make them move. I push myself upright, biting back a groan as I do so. My head swims. Every inch of me throbs. Even my teeth.
In conclusion, I’m really not okay and everything hurts.
I sit there for a moment, trying to catch my breath, my hands shaking against the floor as the world tilts and sways around me. When I finally stand, the ache in my back pulses, and my legs buckle, but I force them to hold me. I clench my jaw to keep from crying out. I won’t give her that.
“Addie, please.” Naomi’s voice trembles as she approaches.
She looks wrecked—her eyes swollen, tears streaking her face, her lips trembling as if she’s about to apologize again.
I can’t tell if she’s trying to fix this or trying to make herself feel better.
Either way, it doesn’t matter. She’s broken in a way I’ve never seen before, but I can’t bring myself to care right now. I don’t know why she’s crying.
I take a shaky step forward, the floor lurching beneath me. I’m convinced that if I take another one, I might actually throw up. I feel the nausea twist and churn in my stomach, but I swallow it down. As much as I’d love to let it all out right now, our carpet can’t afford it.
“Don’t bother,” I mutter. My voice is hoarse, as if it’s been scraped raw. “Just… leave me alone.”
Her face crumples. “Addie, please. Let me help.” The desperation in her voice is almost unbearable. Almost. But I don’t want it. Not now. Not after everything.
“Your help,” I say quietly, tasting blood and betrayal in my mouth. “is the last thing I need right now.”
She blinks, stunned, but I hold her gaze.
“Addie…” Her voice cracks, cracks like glass you fling and jump on until it’s only small, pathetic pieces. “Please, Addie…” Her voice is barely a whisper now. “We’re going to be late to school.”
And I know she’s right; I can’t miss school. I can’t afford it when I’m already so behind. I’m just going to have to suck it up. Somehow. Just going to have to go about my day like my body isn’t shrieking in pain. Like I didn’t just fall down an entire staircase after being shoved by my own sister.
But there’s no way I’m going with Naomi right now.
“Go, then,” I say flatly. My voice, nothing. Nothing at all. “Leave.”
Naomi hesitates, her face crumpling further. She looks like she’s on the verge of arguing, or rather, begging. But she doesn’t. Instead, she takes a slow step back. Then another. I watch as she turns and walks away, not once looking back.
I suppose I should be relieved.
Alone now, I sink down to the floor, I let myself collapse. I slide down the wall until I hit the floor, my back pressed against the cool surface. The cold seeps into my skin, doing nothing to numb the pain.
Nothing will right now. My legs are trembling. My ribs ache with every breath.
I close my eyes and let my mind drift in the stillness. For some reason, I think of Dad.
What would he think of this?
He would have known what to do.
I remember his voice, the softness in his words, the way he always seemed to know how to mend us. He always knew exactly what to say.
And now he’s gone. Nothing more than a fragment of a memory. A blurry picture in my mind. A fading photograph I can barely bring into focus. A story.
One day, it will blur to the point of nothing. I will slowly forget his voice. His face.
Maybe I’m already forgetting.
But then I remember Mason.
He would probably laugh if he knew about this, or worse, ignore it like it was beneath him. I should hate him for what he did. I did hate him. And yet, I could never make myself leave. Or say anything to anyone.
And so, I remained. In the cell of a person that was my brother. But not because I was weak, but because in some ways, the pain felt familiar. Like a song I’d known my whole life.
A song imprinted on every edge of my mind. In every dark corner of my soul. A song sung often, but every time you listen, you discover a little more. Resent a little less.
And Mason Ross, you were that song. You were the most haunting song of all.
Did we ever really know you at all?
The rest of the melody you carried with you to the grave. All your secrets. All the parts of you we never touched.
It’s easier to be furious than to admit you’re broken.
With that in mind, I exhale slowly, my breath shaky but steadying. I push myself to my feet, ignoring the physical discomfort.
I can’t change what’s already happened, but I can choose how I move forward from here. With another heavy sigh, I make my way to the bathroom.
I don’t know how long I’m there for, or how much longer I will remain. I take all the time I need to gather the pieces of myself before leaving—one broken shard at a time.
I welcome them home like they’re old friends.
***
The fall will leave bruises—I already know that. Probably more than a few. But bruises are easy to hide. It’s simply a matter of what clothes to wear.
As the train pulls into the station near my school, I brace myself for what’s coming, already feeling the regret settle low in my gut. I’m screwed. I grit my teeth as I stumble onto the platform, my knees wobbling under the pressure. Each step is like a damn shockwave rushing through my body.
It hurts like hell, to say the least.
By the time I reach the school, I know I’ve missed most of the first lesson. The hallways are eerily quiet, and it makes me feel significantly more exposed to everything else. Vulnerable.
Deciding that facing a classroom full of curious eyes is more than I can bear, I opt to avoid the inevitable. Instead, I promise myself I’ll apologize to the teacher after.
I pass by lockers upon lockers. So many, and I don’t even know where my own is.
Finally, I stop and lean against one. The cool metal presses into my back. Once again, it doesn’t do much. My body’s exhausted, worn down in ways it never has been before. Even from starvation and sleep deprivation. I don’t remember the last time I’ve felt this wrecked.
Before I know it, I’m sinking to the floor. My knees give out, and I fold in on myself, resting my forehead on my arms.
I just need a minute, I promise myself.
One moment to block out the noise in my head.
Although I don’t get much of that time, because one moment it’s completely silent, and the next I hear footsteps. I freeze. The footsteps draw closer, each one making my pulse quicken.
When I lift my head, I see Will Carson walking toward me, his pale hair catching the harsh fluorescent light, making it seem even whiter than usual.
Is that really his natural hair?
Not just his hair, but his skin reminds me of marble in this light. Of course, there really isn’t anything else that’s light or fragile about him.
His gaze already is locked on me like he’s been watching for a while, and I stay still, hoping he’ll keep going, but I know better.
He’s not the kind of person who lets things slide.
I push myself upright, ignoring the sharp pain that flares in my legs.
My breath is ragged, but I force it to slow.
Will doesn’t speak as I steady myself. He just watches, his expression unreadable, his eyes are lined with black eyeliner today, and it makes him all the more intimidating as they drill into me.
I meet his gaze, and my muscles tense. “How long have you been standing there?”
He tilts his head, his mouth twitching like the beginning of a grin. “You’d be surprised how much you can learn from a face that doesn’t know it’s being watched.”
His eyes drop to the scar on my cheek. Slowly, he raises a hand and touches the edge of it, his fingers light.
Light but not tender, and his rings are cold against my skin.
His gaze narrows as he traces the line like he’s testing the shape of it.
His expression doesn’t change. It’s like he’s cataloguing it, trying to decide what it means.
“What happened here?” he asks softly. His voice is calm, almost too calm. It makes my skin crawl. It’s then that I realize that he’s not looking at me anymore, not really. His focus stays on the scar, and I feel like I’m shrinking under his gaze, becoming smaller, more transparent.
“What was it then?” he asks, voice low. “An accident? Or just someone having a bad day?”
I go still.
There’s no mocking in his tone, but something about the way he says it makes my skin crawl.
A long pause stretches between us. My heart’s still thudding in my ears.
I force a breath past the tightness in my chest. “Does it matter?”
Will shrugs, like it might. Like it might not. “Depends on who gave it to you.”
A flicker of something—fury, maybe—slices through my stomach, too quick to hold onto.
I wrap my arms around myself instead.
He glances down the hallway, as if checking for anyone listening, then speaks again. “Let me guess. Family.”
I don’t respond, but my silence answers for me.
He lets out a small exhale, almost like a laugh. “Yeah. That tracks.”
Another beat, and I finally find my voice, though it comes out quieter than I want. “You don’t know anything about my family.”