Page 103 of The Design of Goodbye
“Ihaveto,” I said. “You need to be safe. I can’t forget what I saw. I can’t let you walk back into that house.”
Hands trembling, he unbuckled his seatbelt, and my stomach dropped. “What are you doing?”
“What does it look like?” he said, opening the car door so forcefully it hit the sidewalk’s curb. “I’m leaving.”
The door slammed shut.
I stared at his empty seat, shocked; I never thought he’d walk away.
I scrambled out of my car. My phone fell off my lap and onto the street, but I didn’t pick it up.
“Liam, stop!”
I ran down the sidewalk, trying to make up the distance he’d made. He was too fast, though, and even running, I couldn’t catch up. When he turned down a narrow path lined with trees and darkness, I stopped. I could barely see him, and it wasn’t safe to keep chasing him.
“Liam!” I shouted. “Don’t do this to me.” My voice cracked. “Don’t leave me!”
He faltered, and I took advantage. I ran to him, gripping the sleeve of his jacket and spinning him to face me. “What the hell are you doing?” I pulled him closer to me so I could see him in the moonlight. “We don’t walk away from each other.”
“I told you to forget about it.” His jaw was clenched, but there was regret in his eyes. “And you wouldn’t.”
“Yeah, well,” I said, “watching you get beat up is a little hard to forget.”
“You have to,” he said. “And you can’t tell anyone.”
I let go of him and wrapped my arms around myself, needing the comfort. “Ineedto.”
“I’ll deny it.”
To me, those three words meantI’d lie,and he’d never hurt me more.
“Those red marks on your arm might be a little hard to hide,” I said, fighting back. “Don’t you think?”
“Shit.”
He kicked the trunk of a tree. Over and over and over again. With every kick, I flinched.
“Liam, stop it.” His anger terrified me because it was so out of character for him. He didn’t stop, so I pushed him away from the tree and into the middle of the pathway, the effort almost making me fall over. “Stop it,” I choked out, righting myself. “Why are you so angry?”
He tore away from my grip, panting. “Are you kidding?”
“Stop being so mean,” I said, voice quivering. “I’m scared for you and trying to help you, and you’re being a jerk.”
Instantly, he came back to himself.
“Shit,” he said, roughly running a hand through his hair. “I’m sorry. It’s...”He stared down the dark pathway, body slumping in defeat. “I can’t do this. I need to go.”
“So that’s it, then?” I sniffed. “You’re going to leave?”
“I don’t know what else...”He stared at me. “What do you want from me?”
“To let me help you.”
“And how are you going to do that?” He harbored a sense of defeat, like he knew something I didn’t. “As soon as you tell your dad, I’ll be placed in foster care.”
There was no way that was his only option. I couldn’t—wouldn’t—accept it. “What about a grandparent?” I suggested. “An aunt or uncle?”
“I have no family—”
