Break Me (Brayshaw High) - Meagan Brandy Page 0,83

forced shot of Jack and a handful of ibuprofen.”

Royce’s frown deepens, but he doesn’t look away from my hand. “Your mom was sick?”

I sigh, leaning against the window. “In the head.”

This time he does glance my way, and I offer a tight smile.

“I mean, she’d have to be, right?”

I try to hide the inner sorrow the irrational question brings, but if the sudden and unexpected bleak look in his eyes means anything, I failed.

A heavy strain falls over his forehead and his chest inflates with a deep inhale. “Tell me what happened,” he mimics my words.

I hold my hand out and reluctantly, he slaps the license plate into it.

I stare down at the bold letters, the stamped number four, and our last name.

4 Bishop.

“I was sitting on the back patio, admiring the sky and trying to recognize a new constellation of stars I was studying when I heard my dad’s car pull into the driveway. I jumped up as fast as I could and ran up to my room before he even managed to get the front door unlocked. His norm was to ransack the kitchen first, watch the Warriors highlights, and there was hope he’d pass out in the process, but not three minutes after the latch of the door rattled the house, his boots were stomping up the stairs. He went straight for Bass,” I remember.

“I tore my door open as quick as I could and ran for him, but my mom flew from her room the second she heard me step from mine and grabbed me around the waist. She held me back, so I yelled—something I never did—and she yanked my hair for it. But Bass...”

“He told you to be quiet.”

“Without speaking a single word.” I nod. “He met my eye for a split second, and I about swallowed my tongue.” I scratch at the red printed California at the top of the item and jump ahead. “My mom was on her knees at my brother’s side when my dad was done with him, but not to cry and hold her son. She was crying, but her tears were in fear of what would happen to my dad, to her. She sat there and pleaded with Bass, and only when he agreed to lie when asked, did she allow me to help him into the car so we could take him to the hospital. I had to grab an old shovel from the garage to balance me out.” I scoff, shaking my head. “She wouldn’t even help me get him to his feet.”

I turn to Royce, who hasn’t looked away yet.

“Bass told the people at the hospital he fell down a hill riding his bike when really my father drug him out his bedroom window and rolled him off the roof into the long bed of his stupid El Camino.” I swallow, sharing the last, maybe even worst, part. “All because Bass had left the back door open.”

Tension lines Royce’s face as he pieces it together.

“Day or night, we weren’t allowed outside in the summer, and we were never allowed to leave doors open and risk the neighbors hearing what went on inside our walls.”

“Summer,” he drags out.

“My dad’s favorite season.”

“No school.”

He’s getting it.

“No school, no reason for restraint... no swimsuits that would show our family’s secrets.”

His eyes slide between mine. “Bass, he told you that night wasn’t your fault.”

I sigh, looking out at the stupid car my mom bought him.

“Oh yeah, but we both know that it was. I could have sworn I closed and locked the door, but I was in such a hurry to get up there without getting caught I guess I just... forgot. Bass said it happened how it was supposed to because it gave him the car.”

My mouth twitches. “He’d tell me stories all the time how it would one day be our ticket out of there. He was only twelve when that happened, couldn’t even drive the damn thing yet.” I laugh, but it quickly dies. “It took me a while to understand why she’d give a child a car he couldn’t drive, but then I realized it was nothing but another wicked way to show us we were helpless. Like... here’s your car, but I’ll hang on to the keys while you dream of a way out that will never come.”

I frown. “Bass was back in the hospital with a broken jaw a week later.” I lick my lips, glancing back to Royce. “The lies came easier after