Page 93 of Surviving Slater

I swallowed hard, straining to stop myself from feeling the emotion his words pulled from the part of my soul that was damaged like his.

He rubbed the back of his neck briefly. His body language was clear—he wasn't used to letting people in. Any time I wanted to ask a question I stopped myself for fear it would break the spell and he would close up again. It had taken so long to get him to this point. He stood up and turned to face me.

"My teacher, Miss Gardener, noticed the bruises. When she asked me about them, I knew what I was supposed to say." His hands tightened into fists. "But I trusted her. I believed her when she said she could help and make it stop."

For a moment I got a glimpse of the six-year-old boy who struggled with the life-changing decision. "I wanted to protect Shannon. I wasn't much older than her but I felt responsible for her. She was so little. There isn't much about my childhood that was happy but being her older brother was the best thing I'd ever experienced. The way she looked up to me… I was her hero."

The pain that glittered in his eyes was heartbreaking. He paused for a few moments. It physically hurt somewhere deep inside me to listen to him. I wanted to say something to help but there were no words that could ease this.

I knew what it felt like to be in an impossible position, unable to get away. And then once it happened there was no taking it back. It was burned into my soul like a permanent scar. Forever a reminder of what had happened to me.

"Do you know I met Sin when I was only six?"

I didn't answer him. Guilt burned in my stomach like acid.

He rubbed his hands over his face and he took a deep breath. The next part was going to be brutal, I could feel it. There was no stopping me when I stood up and walked over to him, the vulnerability pushing me to step forward and hug him. For a few seconds he stood still and then he gave in, engulfing me in his strong arms.

I hugged him tight, not wanting to let go, but his arms slackened and I looked up at him.

"Tell me."

He stepped away from me, putting distance between us.

"What happened?" I whispered.

"I believed I was doing the right thing." He shook his head. He looked up at the ceiling to compose himself. "Social Services stepped in and took us into care."

The guilt I felt reared up like a hand squeezing tightly on my throat, cutting off my breath.

"Shannon?" I whispered.

He shook his head, his jaw tight. "They couldn't put us in the same foster home."

I reeled backward, trying to maintain my composure.

"I went through all of that, and I still ended up in a home where no one cared. My foster father was a drug addict and my foster mom worked to support it. And what was worse, Shannon was alone and I had Sin."

Reaching out, I touched his shoulder. I could feel his muscles tense beneath my fingers.

"What happened to Shannon?" I found myself asking.

At my question, he pulled away from me and I let my hand fall.

"I can't talk about that." He wasn't ready to tell me how she died. My heart broke for him.

The emotion I'd been trying to keep at bay was becoming harder to control. I could feel the sting of tears but I clenched my teeth to stop myself from allowing them to flow.

"I betrayed her," he murmured, sounding defeated.

"No—"

"If I'd just kept my mouth shut, it wouldn't have happened. She would have stayed with me." He clenched his fists. "But I was weak."

"It—" I tried to argue but he cut me off.

"I wasn't strong enough."

I closed the distance but he pulled away again.