Chapter 46
Forty-Six
ANDREA
A reel of heartbreak replays behind my eyes, the soundtrack still ringing in my ears.
My hands tremble as I stuff another handful of clothes into the jam-packed bag on my bed, doing my best to ignore the dull ache between my legs.
It’s a reminder that I had them then lost them in the same night— one to my father and the other to his past.
“Drea?”
“Go back to bed, Lilly,” I mutter and chuck a makeup bag at the open suitcase on the floor.
“What’s going on?”
I can’t look at her. If I do, I’m not sure I’ll follow through and I have to.
“I’m leaving.”
Even my sister’s deafening silence can’t smother the memory of Cade’s screams. I squeeze my eyes shut, desperately trying to conjure his smile. His laugh. Anything but the terror in his beautiful face as his sanity was shredded.
“Don’t,” she whispers.
Bracing myself on the bed, I curl my fingers into the comforter. “I can’t stay here.”
“Why?”
I’m too raw. Too broken. All that’s left is anger. I’m. So. Fucking. Angry. At Seba for being a martyr. At Cade for opening my eyes. At my father for his tyrannical control. At myself for never seeing the warning signs until it’s too late. But most of all, at God.
I kick the suitcase closed and sling the duffel over my shoulder.
“Because God doesn’t want us to know.”
Her brows knit. “Know what?”
I finally meet my little sister’s wide, glassy eyes.
“There’s no such thing as sin. He just doesn’t want us to realize we have free will. Because that would make us harder to control.”
She stares at me with a mixture of confusion and pity. Like I’m the one who’s lost their mind. It hurts almost as much as leaving her in this prison. But taking her with me isn’t an option, so I kiss her on the top of the head and lug my bags downstairs.
“Andrea?” Mama calls from the kitchen. “What’s all that racket—”
The front door slams behind me, cutting her off.
My vision blurs. I make it down the driveway before the tears fall. I make it three blocks before the shaking returns. I make it up the front steps of my best friend’s house before the knot in my throat suffocates me.
I knock.
The door swings in.
Remy.
My lower lip quivers.
“Hey,” I croak. Swallow. Try again. “I know it’s late, but I can’t stay at home and I don’t know where else to go—”
Instantly, his arms surround me. “You can stay as long as you need.”
I squeeze him tighter, burying my nose in his solid chest.
And crumble.