I gasp…
Bright light floods the darkness, making my eyes burn. My lungs expand with the inhale. Is itdaytime already? What the fuck happened? Breathing in and out until my pulse steadies. The sound of the shower hums through the walls, dragging me back to consciousness, to the ache behind my eyes and the taste of scotch that still clings to my tongue. I take in the room, and instantly jerk out of bed.
Fucking Safra…
I should really storm in there and beat his ass for whatever he did last night. But it’s pointless, when it’s not the first time, and I’m sure it’s not the last. Whatever soothes his conscience. My chest burns, my lungs still fighting for air. The shower keeps running, and I move quietly, careful not to make a sound.
It’s odd.
Usually, I wake up naked to the sound of him gagging, but right now, I’m fully clothed, and my body is untouched. I waste no time walking out the door, being careful when I shut it behind me. The house feels too big and so suffocating at the same time. I practically ran down the stairs, heading straight to the front door.
When it suddenly opens. Thiago’s stepmother freezes in the doorway, pale and trembling. Her eyes are red like she’s been crying. There’s a quiver in her chin that makes her hand fly to her mouth.
I don’t know why I stand here. Eyes glued to her… There’s something about her. A small tear slides down her cheek. The urge to comfort her makes me wonder how I would feel with my own mother. Why can't I move?
“Good morning,” she manages to say. “Is Thiago upstairs? I’ve been calling him.”
I nod.
Not trusting my voice. Not trusting this strange emotion that strangles my throat.Why?She brushes past me, her perfume trailing behind her. The floral scent lingering in the air long after she’s gone, and something inside me twists. The silence is deafening, only to be interrupted by the loud buzz in my pocket. I dig into it, pulling out the device.
Greyson:
We need to meet. ASAP.
I stare at the message, the letters blurring. My gaze drifts back to the stairs, and whatever it is—whatever I’m sure Safra has done—it’s already in motion.
Chapter Twenty- Seven
Zayden
The screen fades into a kaleidoscope of colors and a blur of text when the speakers static to life. There’s no time to recover from the news or find the source of where it’s coming from. What plays next is not music. Nor an announcement. But a recording… One from beyond the grave. My blood turns to sludge, trudging through my veins—thick and slow, cutting off the circulation from my lungs.
Sergio’s voice cuts through the air like a knife, cold and controlled, silencing everyone.
“Brad, you know what happens if you don’t listen.”
I’m sure if you dropped a pin right now, it would vibrate throughout the entire school. Even Professor Mason looks up at the speaker with a frown on his face. I’m too stunned to speak, let alone move.
“You want your mother to keep her job? Wanna go, big hotshot? Learn to submit.”
Someone gasps beside me, and another student whispers quietly, “No way…”
But it was him.
Thiago’s father.
My abuser.
Sergio Safra.
And that was Brad… who died last year. Whose death was ruled a suicide. The same asshole who killed June, who begs.
“Please… I’ll do whatever you want. Just don’t… don't fire my mom.”
The whispers stop.
And all I can hear is someone’s little boy protecting his mom, and I can’t help the knife that twists inside my chest. My hands curl around the edge of the desk, leaning myself forward as if I could stop the discomfort that takes me prisoner, knocking the air from my lungs, when Sergio compliments him, the same way he did to me.