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Physical assaults aren’t like the movies. There are no dramatic sound effects announcing each blow. They just come, rapid and random, landing in scattered chaos. You can’t even see much when it happens. It’s just swatches of moving color through the gaps of your arms. Gasps of air leaving your lungs. Even the full extent of the pain comes later.

That moment is for fear and fear alone.

“I’m the only one who doesn’t,” I continue in a distant tone. “But he always hated me more than the others. I wasn’t as afraid of him as he wanted.”

Not until that night anyway.

That night changed everything. So many things broke—literally and figuratively—but that wasn’t the lasting legacy of those few horrific hours. In a sick, twisted way, the very monster my father was trying to beat out of me was born into reality by his actions.

“He hates that he was wrong about you, Case,” Luke says gently. “He hates your success. I saw him when I went home a few weeks ago. He’s a bitter, miserable man.”

The reminder of Luke’s mysterious trip triggers a suddenshift in my attention. Luke’s right about my father, but it’s the casual confession about going home that’s twisting everything inside me. I don’t want him to know I was already aware of his trip. I want to hearhisversion of his story, not get sidetracked by the gossip.

“You went home?” I ask. “Why? Why didn’t you tell me?”

When he winces from the answer in his head, my world goes dark.

My heart races as he studies the carpet.

Please tell me. Please let me in.

“I was… putting things in order. Preparing for…”

Oh god.

He stops speaking, like the words are burning his throat the way they’re scorching my ears.

I thought I wanted to hear him say it, but it’s so much worse out loud. My lungs feel frozen. His eyes drift to mine, and just that brief flash of pain is unbearable. He quickly diverts his gaze back to the floor.

Callie is rigid in my arms. If this is how I feel with the benefit of a warning, I can’t imagine what she’s experiencing right now.

A glossy sheen obscures Luke’s eyes as they stare blankly toward the floor.

“A month ago I was ready. I was done.”

His words form a toxic mist in the air. I breathe it in, paralyzed by its painful truth.

But that’s exactly why he needs to release it. Tear open the wound and let it seep out. Or that poison will pump through your veins until you can’t live with it anymore.

“That’s why I started visiting Jemma’s. The chair,” he continues in a fractured voice. “To say goodbye with one final punishment for what I was. What I’d done. To force myself to confront my failure…” He swats at his eyes. “A month ago was supposed to be the end.”

Callie chokes on a sob and bursts up from the couch. She rushes toward him and throws her arms around him. His tighten in return, like she’s the only thing tethering him here. A few weeks ago, she was.

It was supposed to be the end.

Supposedto be…

Fuck, I can’t breathe.

I rub my chest, blinking through a veil of stifled tears.

I need to see. I need to witness the magic of watching two virtual strangers break apart and heal right before my eyes. With her unflinching compassion and her courage to confront someone else’s pain, Callie did what no one else could.

She thinks she’s nothing? She’s a fucking miracle.

When they finally separate, Luke has the haunted look on his face I got so used to seeing before he decided to hide it from me permanently.

But there’s something else there now. I can’t label it, but it eases some of the pressure behind my ribs.