Page 70 of Things We Left Behind

I had one pillow and a mattress on the floor after Dad had splintered my bed frame throwing me on it last summer. I relaxed against the mound of pillows and tried not to think about how good it felt being surrounded by softness.

Sloane cuddled up against my side. It was just the two of us supported by a soft U of pillows.

“Is he like this all the time?” she asked softly.

I looked down at my hands in my lap. They were balled into fists again. “Only when he drinks. He just drinks more often now. He still acts normal some of the time.” And it was that act, that pretense that I hated more. I preferred the monster to the man pretending to care by showing up to football games or taking us out to dinner.

“I hate him.” Her voice quivered. “I really hate him.”

I slid my arm around her shoulders and cautiously drew her closer. It felt so good that I knew it was wrong. “I don’t want you thinking about him.”

“Why can’t we tell the cops?” she asked.

I shook my head. “It’s complicated, okay? Just trust me.”

“Promise me you’ll take care of yourself, Lucian? Like if he gets too out of control, you won’t let him…you know.”

Kill me. Kill my mother.

I would kill him first. Even if it sealed my fate as a monster.Like father, like son, I thought. “I promise if you promise me you won’t call the cops. Ever. No matter what.”

She took a deep breath and blew it out.

“Pixie,” I prompted. “You have to trust me. Cops would just make it worse.”

Her silence lasted too long, and I squeezed her shoulder.

“Ugh. Fine. But I’m not happy about it.”

“Promise me,” I insisted. She was the daughter of a lawyer. I knew better than to accept “Ugh. Fine,” as an answer.

“I promise,” she said miserably.

Some of the tension drained out of me with her assurance.

Sloane looked up at me with those forest-­green eyes. “You’re not going to college, are you? You can’t leave her alone with him.”

I looked away. “No. I can’t.”

She sat up next to me, her small body tight with indignation at the injustice of it. “That sucks. You have to sacrifice your entire future because your dad is a monster and your mom won’t leave? It’s not fair.”

“Life’s not fair, Pix.”

“What if I looked out for her?” she offered hopefully.

“No.” The word came out so loud it seemed to echo around the room.

We both froze and listened for the telltale sounds of waking parents.

I grasped her by both shoulders and made her look me in the eye. “You’re not to ever get involved. Do you hear me? You don’t ever go over there. You don’t speak to them. You don’t ever draw any attention to yourself. And you don’t ever stand between him and someone else when he’s been drinking. Okay?”

She was wide-­eyed and scared. But I needed her to be. I needed to ensure she never went near my father.

“Okay. Geez. Chill out. It was only a suggestion,” she said, looking like I’d just asked her to set her favorite book on fire.

I heaved a sigh. “I’m sorry for scaring you.”

“You didn’t scare me. Youannoyedme with your intensity.”