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“Yeah, you're wrong.”

“Wow,” she said, rolling her eyes. “Does that work on other people? Deny, deny, deny. I know what you did, you killed that man. And then you took me, I told you no, but you took me anyway. You can't deny that, those are the facts.” Her hand swept through the air, eyes cutting me open as they pierced my heart and left me exposed. “I get that he threatened you, but you didn't have to take me, you could have let me go.”

“You're right,” I said, my voice scratchy and cold. “And I'm sorry you think I didn't have a choice, but the truth is, I would have killed that motherfucker regardless. I just didn't want to in front of you. I didn't want you to get involved, but here you are.” Drawing in air through thin lips, I kept my gaze on hers. “You don't know why, that's the piece you're missing.”

Huffing under her breath, she snuggled back into the blanket and rolled over. “I don't really care, it doesn't matter. It's not like you're going to tell me.”

“The less you know, the better. I'm not telling you for a good reason. I don't want you involved in this, I'm trying to make sure you don't get hurt.”

“It's a little late for that don't you think?” Twisting to look at me over her shoulder, she furrowed her brows. “I'm here, I'm fucking broken—literally,I'm not allowed to leave, I can't call home; but you don't want me getting hurt? How does that make sense?”

Braiding my fingers in my lap, I dipped my head into my chest. “If I let you call home, can you make me a promise?”

Her eyes lit up as she shot up in bed, moving faster than I had seen since the accident. “What is it? What do you want me to do?”

“Promise me you won't tell your parents anything. Act totally normal, pretend like everything is the same as usual.”

Dropping back down, she pinched her eyes shut tight. “I don't have parents to call.” Breathing slowly, she lifted her hands to her face and rubbed her eyes. “They've been gone for years.”

“I'm sorry.” Those were the only words I could find and I felt stupid for even saying that. It was an automatic response, the two words everyone says when they hear that someone had lost a loved a one.

I had heard that same comment a million times over the years. After my birth father died when I was little, that was the only response I ever got from anyone when I told them he had passed.

And I hated it. I didn't want people to apologize to me for it, I barely remembered the guy. The only thing I could remember was his face, that was it. I wouldn't say I didn't miss the idea of him, of having a real father to look up to, but that's all he was, an idea. I had no real memories, nothing I could draw from that was my own.

It was like I had blocked it all out because it was too painful to think about. Every boy needs their father, and when he's gone, no one else could ever fill their shoes.

All the shit that was in my head about who he was, it was nothing but a fabricated story that I had heard. My mind put those images there, I had no clue what was real and what was fake anymore.

“Don't be,” Picking at her nails, she shrugged her shoulder. “I'm not telling you so you'll feel bad for me, I'm telling you to be honest.”

“Can I ask what happened?”

Her lids turned to slits, mouth turning down. “You don't care why, so why are you asking?”

Cocking a brow, I rocked my jaw back and forth. “You're right, I don't care, I'm curious. I know what it feels like to lose someone, I've been there.”

“How the hell could you know what it feels like, you don't have any feelings, remember?”

Smirking, I couldn't stop my lips from turning up playfully. “Sweetheart, I have feelings. They might not be the ones you want, but I have them.”

“What the fuck does that mean?”

“It means that I'm not completely soulless.” Leaning towards her, I rested on my elbow and traced a single finger up and down the blanket. “I feel things, I've just learned how to hide it, and how to bury it. The only thing I can't seem to get rid of is how fucking angry I still get.”

Emery's face softened as her eyes darted between mine. “I can't understand you, nothing about you makes sense. None of this shit makes sense at all.”

“I never said it would.”

“So why does your mom seem so normal? How are you a product of her?”

“She is normal I guess, she's a great person. But I wouldn't say I really had any family growing up, I've always been on my own in a way.”

“But you have a stepfather and a brother, it's not like you were completely alone.”

“Franco doesn't count. That man has always seen me as tarnished, because I'm not his biological son. My younger brother was his pedestal baby, he held him so much higher than he did me. I never did anything right, I had always been a fuckup, those were his words. Who says that to a seven year old child?”

Twining her fingers together, she bit her lip in thought. “I. . . I don't know.”