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He sits behind me, putting his legs on either side of my body. I appreciate the subtle, affectionate support, especially when he begins massaging my shoulders.

I dive into the interwebs and don’t resurface for a long time. I’m sobbing quietly within ten minutes.

She’s been shouldering allthisalone, while I’ve been so pleased with myself for helping out everywhere else.

One thing that is glaringly obvious about confidants? They suffer alone without complaint. Even with Asher not showing up, she never said a word or argued with him.

She just quietly packed up and disappeared. Just like I did.

But why? Doesn’t she know that Asher would kill for her? That William guy’s days are numbered.

Something’s up. I need to dig deeper.

There’s the footprint of a path to social media sites, but they’re all shut down. Addie went through everything and tried to wipe out her entire existence. I didn’t do any of that when I went through my troubles. I just stopped logging in. This is a level of dedication to disappearing that I never even thought about.

Everything becomes clear when I findthe post.

It took me a little while. Mr. WilliamBennetremoved the original post from his main profile, but I also found his secret account. Only one, with a bunch of followers based in some kind of underground tattoo community, still has it up.

I see one tiny picture with an accusation that speaks so many volumes, too agonizing to hear.

When I click on it to clearly see the picture, my heart sinks.

The scars are old. I morbidly zoom in to make sure and let out a sigh of relief. This is past pain. Past trauma. She got better. She stopped. But nobody knows how slippery the slope to depression is better than I do at this point. If she’s been dealing with all of this alone, are they still old wounds? Or did this completejerkwadrip them right open again with some unwitting Broussard assistance?

I make the mistake of opening the comments section to look for a link to the website Sophia mentioned and try to keep my sobs quiet as I read.

The amount of pure disgust and threats is horrifying. It overwhelms any supportive comment by a landslide. I’m sure the haters found a way to get into Addie’s private messaging, too. That’s why her accounts are gone. She probably had to get a new number. I’ll look that up after I tape my broken heart back together.

It will destroy Asher to see how much she’s suffered in silence. She internalized all that pain and took it out on herself while she was helping him stand firm. How do I show him this or bring it up? No wonder Sophia was begging him not to look for it.

But how did the rest of the family see this and notact? They saw this silent suffering and mocked it instead of reaching out to help.

I’m starting to getreallymad.

I have to focus on finding answers before that deep dark well of depression starts sucking me in.

The link to the mysterious website has been taken down, even on this barely there post with Addie’s name but no tags. But good oldWilliam Bennethas been very vocal about a lawsuit for his post that’s stuck in court because of all the upheaval in the current justice system.

Investigating more leads me to a nonprofit organization called Survivors of Tragedy, solely owned and funded by Poe Richards, a survivor himself. Everything I see in it is positive support for any kind of traumatic event that’s happened in a person’s life.

Where there’s tragedy, there are scars. Emotional as well as physical. Just like Asher. It’s not hard to put the puzzle together.

If she was doing tattoos over scars, she had a wide-open playing field. Even though the organization spans the US, there are plenty of people in town to keep her afloat. Not that I know anything about tattoos or the money involved, but over a thousand people right here? Why did the shop close down?

My shoulders hunch when I look up the lease records and finances. She’s been slowly going broke. Not to mention, there’s a news article about someone defacing the shop after the online post. It names her personally with a picture of her, so everyone can see who the target is. It’s the first time I’ve been able to put a face to the name.

Addie’s bright smile and sparkling eyes are arresting. She’s beautiful. Long blond hair and eyes a brighter blue than any of her siblings. She’s unique in a way that stands out. From her gleeful expression in comparison with the reserved smiles of her family to her crazy raccoon t-shirt proclaiming her to be the best there ever was at knocking over trash cans. She has a lot of tattoos, too.

It’s so darn depressing to think of what she must look like now. If she’s falling apart even half as badly as I did, she’s going to be rough. And she has a lot more reason to break than I did.

I see she’s in therapy, but don’t touch the records. That’s just wrong. But good for her! She’s taking care of herself regardless of everything going on. This is the kind of information Asher can focus on. She’s taking action behind the scenes where no one can say anything about it. I like her twenty million times over already.

Now, where did she move to? Why can’t I find anything other than a plane ticket to LA in her name? She’ll be returning Monday, but I kind of want her herenow. It’s selfish, but I want Asher to be able to see she’s ok. He’ll need it once he finds out what happened.

“What to do,” I whisper, my hands falling to my lap while I think.

“Let Asher decide.”