Page 171 of Brutal
The man who didn’t hesitate.
The man who put his hands on me and didn’t stop.
The man I didn’t stop.
The man I chose.
And the man who killed him.
“You need to tell me,” Samson says. His voice is lower now.
I laugh, not because anything is funny. Because I don’t know what else to do. “Do you think this is about your brother?”
He wrinkles his forehead. “What?”
“That’s what you’re worried about, right? Nathaniel. The lawyer. What he knew. What he didn’t tell you.”
“That matters.”
“Not like this.”
“Then what?—”
I cut him off with a gesture because I can’t hold it all in anymore. It’s already breaking. Because the second that man looked at me, said I had his eyes, it was over.
“I knew,” I say.
“What?”
I shake my head. “It wasn’t clear. Not something you say out loud.”
“Delaney, you’re not making sense.”
“I had pieces,” I continue. “Things that didn’t line up unless I let them.” My throat tightens but I force the words through anyway. “My mother wouldn’t talk about him. Wouldn’t let me ask. Ever. Not once.”
Samson doesn’t interrupt.
Good.
Because if he does I might stop and not be able to start again.
“There were visits,” I say. “Not many. Not obvious. Always outside. And only until I was about three or four.”
The memory hits again. The door. The line he never crossed.
“I thought—” I stop.
Swallow.
Try again.
“I thought he was someone she knew. Someone from before. Someone she didn’t want me asking about.”
“That doesn’t mean?—”
I hold up my hand. I don’t need him finishing that thought. Because I’ve already lived in that space.
“I didn’t say it,” I continue. “Not once. Not in my head. Not out loud.”
