Chapter 69
KAI
Panic hit me like a punch to the chest the moment I was alone in my room.
It lodged itself in my throat, sharp and choking, as I sifted through my drawers trying to find something - anything - that would fit Alex. My hands shook over the fabric, useless, clumsy.
My mind wouldn’t stop racing.
He was downstairs.
Safe.
Finally safe.
And now that I wasn’t right beside him - now that I had even a sliver of space to breathe - everything I’d been holding back crashed into me all at once.
My breath stuttered, vision blurring at the edges and I braced my hands on the dresser, bowing my head as the room tilted.
“Come on, Kai,” I whispered to myself, voice tight. “Calm down. Keep it together. He needs you.”
But the images wouldn’t stop.
He was so small. So innocent. Those marks on his face. The bruises. The way he held his ribs like they were barely holding him together.
I should have known. Should have realised sooner.
How could someone do that to him?
How could his own brother hurt him like that?
The thought made something hot and furious burn low in my stomach - a kind of anger I didn’t recognise, sharp and protective and terrifying in its intensity.
I squeezed my eyes shut, forcing air into my lungs.
In.
Out.
Slow.
Steady.
“Alex needs you,” I said again, firmer this time, grounding myself with the words. “ He needs you.”
I stayed there for a moment, palms flat against the dresser, breathing until the panic loosened its grip. Until I could think again. Until the anger settled into something quieter, something focused.
Then I grabbed the clothes - the softest ones I owned - and headed back downstairs.
“I’m… I’m sorry.” Alex’s voice drifted up from the kitchen, thin and shaky, cutting straight through the quiet.
“For all of this. For showing up like-”
My heart melted. Just… melted. Like everything inside me dropped at once.
“Alex… I said you were welcome any time, and I meant it,” Mum said, her voice warm and steady.
But it didn’t stop the guilt churning in my chest.
I don’t even know why I felt guilty. But I did.
I’d made him come here. Gave him an ultimatum I knew he wouldn’t say no to. Dragged him out of that house because the thought of him staying there one more night made me feel sick.
And now he was downstairs in my kitchen, apologising. Feeling uncomfortable. Feeling like a burden.
Because of me .
I slowed on the stairs, one hand gripping the bannister, trying to calm my breathing - but it wasn’t working. My lungs felt too heavy, my thoughts too loud, everything inside me spiralling faster than I could catch it.
But I couldn’t let him get hurt. I couldn’t let him go back to that house.
The thought alone physically hurt somewhere deep in my gut. I swallowed hard, forcing myself to keep moving, one step at a time, even though my legs felt unsteady.
He needs you, I told myself.
The words steadied me more than the railing did. They pulled me back from the edge, anchored me in something solid. Because it was true. He did need me. And I wasn’t going to fail him. Not again. Not ever.
I rounded the corner, clothes in hand, a lazy smile plastered on my face - the kind you wear when you’re holding yourself together by threads and hoping no one notices. I’d rehearsed it on the stairs, smoothed out the panic in my chest, forced my breathing steady.
But the second I saw him again, it was like my brain forgot. Like it rebooted just so I could see him broken all over again.
Alex sat at the kitchen table, shoulders curled in, beanie pulled low over his shaved head.
The bruises on his cheek and jaw had darkened, blooming deeper under the warm kitchen light.
His eyes were red, tired, too old for someone who should’ve been laughing about stupid things, not flinching at shadows.
And it killed me.
It hit me so hard I had to swallow against it - the anger, the fear, the guilt, all of it crashing into my ribs at once. For a second, I felt that same burn in my stomach, that same helpless fury at the thought of someone doing this to him.
His own brother.
But I held it together.
I had to.
He looked up when he heard me, and the tiny flicker of relief in his eyes - barely there, but real - was enough to steady me. Enough to make me breathe again.
So I kept the lazy smile on my face. Kept my voice soft. Kept the panic buried where he couldn’t see it.
Because he didn’t need my fear. He needed me.
So I decided to say something lighter, something that might ease the worry on his face.
“This is becoming a habit,” I smirked, gesturing to the clothes.
And there it was - that tiny, shy smile he tried to hide, the way his cheeks warmed for just a second before he ducked his head. It hit me harder than it should’ve. Like a punch and a breath of relief all at once.
He smiled into himself, small and soft, and for a moment the bruises didn’t swallow his whole face. For a moment he looked like Alex again.
And God, it made holding myself together worth it.
But then he got up to go get changed, and the Alex who’d smiled at my joke vanished. In his place was the wincing, timid version - the one who moved like every breath hurt, the one who made something in my chest twist painfully.
He pushed himself off the chair with a quiet, sharp inhale he tried to hide.
“Will you be alright?” I asked, the worry already creasing my brow before I could stop it.
He nodded, quick and small, not meeting my eyes.
And I wanted to help - God, I wanted to.
I wanted to steady him, guide him, make sure he didn’t hurt himself trying to get changed.
But that would’ve been overstepping. Alex wouldn’t want me to see him like that.
Not when he was already trying so hard to hold himself together.
So I let him go. Even though every part of me hated it.
I watched him walk toward the hallway, slow and stiff, and all I could do was hope he didn’t struggle. Hope he could manage without making the pain worse. Hope he didn’t feel alone behind that closed door.
The moment he disappeared around the corner, I felt Mum’s eyes on me.
She watched him leave, her face soft with worry - then she turned to me, and the worry sharpened. Not angry. Not accusing. Just… knowing. Seeing right through me the way she always did.
And I knew she was about to ask the questions I’d been avoiding even in my own head.
She leaned in a little, elbows on the counter, her voice low but steady - the kind that didn’t demand answers but made it very clear she wasn’t letting this go.
“What’s going on?” she asked. “What happened to him?”
I let out a long breath, dragging both hands through my hair. “It’s a long story.”
“Well,” she said, eyebrows lifting, “I hope you can make it shorter for me.”
I huffed out something that wasn’t quite a laugh. “He wouldn’t want me to tell you,” I said honestly. “I could barely get him to tell me.”
Her expression softened, but the worry didn’t fade. If anything, it deepened - not because she was frustrated, but because she understood exactly what my silence meant.
“Was it someone at home?” she asked, her voice low, careful. She was connecting the dots faster than I could dodge them.
I didn’t answer.
“Kai, if it is, that’s really serious.”
“Don’t you think I know that?” I said, shaking my head, the words coming out sharper than I meant. “Why do you think I brought him here?”
“You should have taken him to the police.” Her eyes widened, fear creeping into her voice.
“He wouldn’t go,” I sighed, rubbing the back of my neck. “I didn’t know what else to do.”
She exhaled long and hard, like she was weighing something heavy in her mind. The kitchen felt too quiet, too still, like the whole house was waiting for something to break, then she reached out, resting a hand on my arm. “You did the right thing bringing him here. We’ll figure something out.”
I nodded, barely.
“Are you okay?” She asked, her thumb moving up and down on my hand.
“I’m fine.” I exhaled deeply, even though moments ago I was struggling to keep it together.
“I know it’s not easy, seeing people get hurt.” She sighed. “I know it may feel like you can handle this-”
“I’m fine, Mum. It’s him.” I gestured to the hallway. “It’s Alex who’s not.”
“But I just wanted you to know that it’s fine if you’re not fine.” She said, her expression softening again.
I stared at her - really stared - at her eyes, her features, everything that made her her .
And I appreciated her so much in that moment it almost hurt.
Because I couldn’t even imagine what it was like for Alex.
Being beaten while his mum just… watched.
Not doing anything. Not helping him. Telling him to keep it down.
And I wondered if she’d been there earlier. While his brother was shaving his head. Breaking his phone. Breaking him .
The thought made something inside me twist so sharply I couldn’t hold it in anymore.
“It was… it was my fault, Mum.” The words scraped out of me, the air feeling like it was slipping out of my lungs. “I’m the reason he’s hurt.”
A stray tear rolled down my cheek before I could stop it.
“I doubt that,” Mum said softly, shaking her head.
“No, it is.” I shook mine harder. “He told me not to go around his house. I didn’t listen. I went there on Saturday and I was drunk and being loud and obnoxious, and the neighbours saw me.”
Another tear. Hot. Humiliating.
“Oh, Kai.” She cooed, her voice warm and aching. “That’s not your fault. He’s a teenager. He should be allowed to have people round his house. To have friends.”
“I know,” I whispered. “But he told me, Mum. He told me.”
“You weren’t to know.” She shook her head again, firmer this time.
“If I had just stayed at the pub, stayed with Callum-”
“Then it would have been something else,” Mum said honestly, cutting through my spiralling. “I see it all the time. In the hospital. People coming in for the same reasons. Mainly women. Same injuries. Time and time again.”
Her voice softened, but her eyes didn’t look away.
“I know their husbands or partners are hurting them, but without them going to the authorities or getting help, there’s nothing we can do. And it’s sad. It’s so sad. But it’s no one’s fault. No one but the abuser.”
Her words settled over me slowly, like she was trying to pull the guilt out of my hands without forcing it.
And for the first time since I’d dragged Alex out of that house, I felt the smallest crack in the weight crushing my chest.
“Okay,” she said softly. “Okay.”
She stepped around the counter and wrapped her arms around me. I didn’t cry - not properly. A few tears slipped out, but I kept the rest locked behind the wall I’d built. I couldn’t let it fall. Not when Alex could walk out any second. Not when he needed me steady.
I nodded into her shoulder, the warmth of her body soothing something raw inside me. The kitchen settled into a quiet that felt almost fragile, like the whole world had stilled in that moment.
Then, down the hall, the faintest sound came from the bathroom - a shift, a quiet thud, barely anything.
But it snapped my attention instantly in that direction, my heart lurching, hard.
Every muscle in my body went tight, like I was ready to run to him before I even realised I’d moved. The hug, the warmth, the comfort - all of it vanished under a wave of instinctive panic.
Alex.