Page 93 of Break Away
But Bliss and Charm knew.
They knew what waited behind my locked door, and still, in front of everyone, they asked me to unlock it and let my worst moment fill the room.
I yanked my overnight bag from the top shelf of my closet. A boot, an old tote, and a glittery clutch I hadn’t seen since sophomore year came crashing down with it like my closet had decided to join the emotional collapse.
“Perfect,” I muttered because that was apparently my word of the night.
I dragged open my dresser drawer and started shoving clothes into the bag without folding them. Leggings. A sweatshirt. Two shirts. Socks I probably didn’t need. Underwear I definitely didn’t count.
A bra caught on the drawer handle and snapped free hard enough to make me laugh once, sharp and ugly.
My phone buzzed on the bed.
Bliss.
I let it ring.
Charm’s name appeared next.
I let that ring too.
Then I heard a key turn in the front lock, and my entire body went still.
“Ay?” Bliss called from the living room, breathless and scared.
Charm’s voice followed, tighter. “Aura?”
I closed my eyes.
They had a key because my girls were supposed to be safe. They were supposed to be the people who could walk in when the world got bad and find me without needing permission.
I had never once regretted giving it to them.
Until tonight.
Fuck the metaphor.
They knew.
They knew I was gang raped and recorded just so my humiliation would last forever, and they still wanted me to share it like some kind of peace offering. Like if I ripped myself open in the middle of Hockey House, maybe the tension would finally break and everyone could breathe easier.
I had never told Bliss to shout her truth about Luke at Cade so he would understand her faster. Even when Charm and I didn’t know everything was still happening, we had her back. We protected the pieces she wasn’t ready to say aloud.
I had never told Charm to stand in front of parents who loved her fiercely but controlled every polished inch of her life and explain how slowly their pressure was crushing her just because the rest of us would feel better if the truth had a name.
I had never betrayed their worst moments. Never taken the ugliest, most private pieces of them and treated them like bargaining chips for someone else’s comfort.
But that was what they were asking me to do.
They wanted me to betray myself for peace. For less tension. For a man who needed my trauma explained before he could remember I was a person.
And I love them.
God, I love them so much it makes this worse, but I will not turn my nightmare into a bridge so everyone else can walk over it.
“I’m in my room,” I said, and my voice came out flat enough to scare even me.
Footsteps hurried down the hall.
