crumble their facade. The threat of the police will keep them away.
He gnashes his teeth. “What do you want?”
“I want to be normal,” I reply, closing the door between us.
Jason wraps his arms around my neck, away from the bruising. “I wish I had known before.”
“I was too afraid to say anything before.”
“Why?”
“My father would beat me if I did. We had rules and before I met Arissa and her family, I thought all families were like mine. When I realized I was wrong, I just thought my parents were right.”
“How could you think that?”
Heat rises in me. It’s so easy for him to ask when he doesn’t know what it’s like. “You haven’t been in my shoes, Jason,” I say, my irritation growing with each word. “You don’t know what it’s like to be isolated from everyone to protect the secret. Always told how worthless and damaged you are. No one to tell you otherwise. As a kid, you think your parents are always right, because they tell you they are.”
“But they never acted like that with the Jerichos or they would’ve done something before now.”
“Anything to protect the secret!” I shout, throwing my arms in the air with abandon. He flinches at my response. “All the monsters are locked in the closets when outsiders are present. Once they leave, the monsters bust out of hiding. Back to life as usual in the Parker house. I never knew when the next beating was coming. You saw my father kicking me. That was a good day.
“He’s broken bones, shoved me to the floor, thrown me across the room, almost drowned me.” He winces, likely picturing everything, and I continue without mercy because I was never shown mercy. “Beat me with his fists, kicked me, called me every name in the book, told me I’m worthless, said I’m damaged goods. Shall I keep going?”
“At least you get to have a normal life now.”
“I’ve dreamed of what it would be like, but it’s not a switch. I can’t turn normal on and off,” I say.
“You’ll have more freedom,” he points out.
“Ah!” I scream, stomping up to Arissa’s room and slamming the door behind me.
Someone raps on the door.
Probably Jason wanting to work it out. “I don’t want to talk to you right now!” I shout, pacing the room.
“Sara, it’s Rose.”
I soften my voice. “Come in.”
Rose steps inside. “What is going on?”
“I’m mad. I’m frustrated. I’m confused. Most of all, I’m scared.”
“You have every right to be. Your world was just turned upside down and dumped in the middle of the street for everyone to see. But,” she says with a firm tone, “I will not tolerate you slamming doors in this house.”
I stop pacing. “I’m sorry. Jason was saying things that made me mad.”
“He was only trying to help, sweetie.”
“But it wasn’t helping, Rose. I just got angrier.”
“Maybe we should look into therapy,” she suggests. “You’ve lived a lifetime of secrets that won’t go away overnight.”
Our attention shifts to a knock at the open door. Jason fills the doorway, hands in his pockets and head hanging. “May I talk to Sara?” he asks.
“Sure. Dinner will be ready in fifteen.” She pats his shoulder as she passes him.
“I’m sorry, Parker. I was being insensitive without realizing it.”
I sit on Arissa’s bed, keeping my hands clasped together. “I’m sorry for yelling at you.”
“I did my fair share of pushing when you asked me to stop.” His hands wrap around mine and he squats in front of me. “I’m trying to process all this right now. You were like a rag doll on the ground when I drove up and I thought you were dead.”
“Be patient with me, please. Everything just changed for me in a flash and it’s a lot to handle right now.”
“Anything you ask, Parker. Anything.” He cups my cheek with one hand, swiping a stray tear with his thumb. His other hand tugs me off the bed and into his embrace. I lay my head on his shoulder, allowing the tears to flow.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Rose and Andrew drop me off at Samantha Close’s office while they meet with the lawyers and my parents to formalize my guardianship.
While I wait, I picture her office with an old worn brown leather sofa for her clients and a wingback chair in front of it for her. Two walls lined with bookshelves, another with file cabinets and the last with her degrees and certificates above the sofa. A plain, boring office for a plain, boring therapist.