Fucking hell.
I could lie or offer half-truths.
But I want her toreallyknow me.
So, I go for the real truth.
“My father was abusive,” I say, watching the way her brow furrows ever so slightly. “Not physically—not often, anyway. Emotionally. Verbally.”
She waits, giving me space to continue.
“He used to tell me I was worthless. A disappointment. He’d scream if I disagreed with anything. I hated that house. When he kicked me out, it was the best thing that ever happened to me.”
She nibbles her lip, like she wants to ask something but doesn’t want to interrupt.
“What do you want to ask?”
She laughs, the sound shaky. “When did he kick you out?”
This is the part I’ve kept from her. Because I know what comes next. And I know what it will make her think—about Jenny. But I’ve chosen honesty.
“The day I met her—Jenny—he threw me out that morning. Told me never to come back. I was ready to end it. Or disappear.And then… I saw her.”
Emily slowly tilts her head down, bringing the end of her pen to her lips like she’s chewing on the thought. “What else happened that morning?”
Astute little witch.
“I cut myself that morning.”
She inhales sharply.
“It wasn’t the first time,” I add. “I did it a lot.”
“Do you remember when it started?”
I shrug. I’m in too deep to back out now. My eyes drift to the green plant in the corner of the room. The one that hides my camera. Easier to look at than her.
“Thirteen, maybe. My father had just told me he wished I’d never been born. Cutting… gave me something else to feel. Something real. Something I could control.”
“Do you still feel that need?” she asks softly.
I shake my head and meet her gaze. I get lost in the honey-brown warmth of her eyes, until she clears her throat and offers me a gentle smile.
“No. I stopped the day I met Jenny.”
“What about when she disappeared? Didn’t the urge come back then?”
“No.” My throat tightens. “As long as I could watch someone—anyone—I was okay.”
“And now?” she presses. “You’ve told me you haven’t been stalking anyone new.”
“I’m not a child anymore,” I grit out. “His words don’t mean anything to me now.”
She tilts her head. “Do you really believe that?”
“Why wouldn’t I?” I snap, too fast.
She just shrugs. “It’s just a question.”