I don’t understand. My hands tremble as I type.

Callie: I thought I was going to go with you… and it’s

late. The office isn’t even open.

When he doesn’t respond, I don’t know what to think. Is he

really seeing him? Or is he lying?

I stand up, brushing the snow off the back of my jeans. “We

should go look for him.”

Luke shakes his head, squeezing by us and heading up the

stairs. “Callie, I’m sure he’s okay… and he’ll said he be back soon so I think we should just wait here for him.”

I glance at Seth, wondering what I should do. Sighing, he

swings his arm around me and leads me up the stairs. “I’m sure

he’s fine,” he says quietly.

I clutch onto him, hoping with everything I have that he’s

right.

Kayden

I am obsessed about telling the truth and finally having my

secrets out in the open the entire drive home. The longer I thought

about it, the more anxious I got until I felt like I was going to burst.

I’d spent my whole life holding my emotions and secrets in and

suddenly I needed to get them all out. Now.

Even though it was late, I knew if I lay down on that bed,

closed my eyes, and went to sleep, my mind would probably

change by morning. It was just one of those things where if I’d sat

on it, I’d talk myself out of it. So as soon as Callie went into the

bathroom, I slipped out of the room, muttering something about

getting my suitcase out of the back of the truck.

I knew she’d be upset that I took off without saying anything,

but I had to do it; otherwise she’d look at me with those sad puppy

eyes, wanting to go with me, like we talked about, and I’d have a

hard time saying no. Despite the fact that I told her we’d do this

together, I realized on the way home that it’s something I need to

do on my own. Otherwise I’d hold back, and I want—no need to let

it out. All of it.

I walk out of the room and run over to the park just a few

blocks down, and then I stop and take out my phone and the card

Doug gave me. When he gave me the card he said I could call him

anytime and I hope he meant it.

It’s late and colder than hell, the air stinging at my skin like

needles. I let the phone ring, walking back and forth across the

sidewalk, thinking about what this means. For as long as I can

remember, it’s always been about doing what my father wanted,

with sports, with rules, with life. I’d always felt this obligation to go back to that house, no matter what. I don’t know why and maybe I

never will. But I’m hoping this is the first step to cutting the ties with that God damn house that’s haunted by nothing but terrible

memories and the soulless monster who put them there.

It’s gratifying to think about.

I’m about to hang up after the phone rings for the fifth time,

but then someone says, “Hello.”

“Umm…” I can’t tell if it’s him or not. “This is Kayden… Is this

Doug?”

“Oh, yes, Kayden.” There’s some ruffling in the background

followed by some voices. Then it goes quiet. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, well, no.” I’m struggling and it feels like someone has

their hands around my neck. But I mentally pry them off, shutting

my eyes and picturing Callie. “I know it’s late, but I need to talk

about what happened that night.”

There’s a pause. “The office is closed but I can meet you at

Larry’s twenty-four-hour diner in about half an hour.”

I take a deep breath and the cold air sends relief to my lungs.

“All right.”

We hang up and just like that I’m heading toward the

starting line of my recovery.

The diner is not too far away and I choose to walk there even

though I’m frozen and my fingers are turning blue. I get there

earlier than Doug and order a cup of coffee. It’s late enough that

no one’s there except a few guys with trucker hats and grease on

their jeans and the cook and waitress. I select a corner booth away

from them, the counter, the kitchen. I don’t want anyone else

hearing what I’m going to say—it’ll be hard enough getting the

words out of my mouth.

I start flicking the rubber band, wishing Callie were here

holding my hand, just like we’d planned, but I know it’s better

being solo and leaving her out of this mess. The waitress is

bringing me coffee when the bell on the front door rings. An icy

breeze sweeps through as Doug walks inside, but it’s okay. It kind

of makes it all real and forces me to feel everything.

I rest my arms on the table as he heads over and I stab my

fingernails into the tops of my forearms. He has on a jacket and a

pair of jeans, along with a beanie. It’s a little out of character for him, since I’m used to seeing him in suits, but then again it’s

eleven o’clock at night.

“Hello, Kayden,” he says in an exhausted voice as he lowers

himself into the booth across from me, taking his beanie off. His

thinning hair stands up in every direction.

“I’m sorry for waking you up,” I tell him and take a sip of

coffee, feeling the burn all the way down to my stomach. “I was

just worried that if I didn’t call… that I’d back out or something.”

“I’m glad you woke me up,” he replies and slips his arms out

of his jacket. “It’s better not to wait on these things.”

I wonder what he’ll say when I tell him everything. I set the

cup down and fold my arms on top of the table, returning my

fingernails to my skin. “You were right,” I hurry and say before I

pussy out. My fingernails burrow farther into my skin and split

sections open. Blood trickles out.

“About what?” he asks, but I think he really knows. He eyes

the blood on my arm but doesn’t say a word about it.

I flex my fingers and take in the bloody, crescent-shaped

marks on my arms. “About what happened that night.”

He crosses his arms on top of the table. “I don’t recall ever

saying what happened that night.”

“Yeah, but you… you thought that my father…” God, this is so

fucking hard. Why is it so hard? My dad’s a fucking dick. He beat

me all those years. Just say it. “He’s the one who hurt me that

night. Well, I mean I did stuff to myself too, but he…” I sound like a fucking kid. I tuck my fingernails into my palms, stabbing them

into my skin. Every part of my body wants to escape, be alone, find

something sharp and bleed the pain out of me. But I keep

reminding myself Callie, Callie, Callie. “He stabbed me. That’s

where the cut on my side came from. He was pissed off because I’d

got in a fight with Caleb and he had to pick me up from jail and