“Already am,” Crimson says—voice venom. “Don’t worry, manchild. I caught the part where your mom hit our sister loud and clear.”
“Stupid, stupid boy!” Mom yells. “Gregory! Gregory, don’t just sit there chewing your cud like a cow!Help me.”
Dad starts to rise, but Viktor’s hand on his shoulder keeps him solidly down.
“Apologize,” Lukas says again.
“Who’s going to apologize tomefor how disrespectful you’ve taught my little girl to be?”
“I believemy girltold you.” Lukas glowers. “This is not about you.”
“So I’m just not supposed to have feelings? I’m supposed to just take this abuse?”
“If you only havefeelingswhen they overshadow your daughter’s, you do not have a right to them until it is your turn. Right now, you’re taking accountability and apologizing for the pain you’ve caused. That’s yourjobas a parent.”
“Myjobas a parent is to tiptoe around my children so I don’t hurt their feelings? Life isn’t like that. She needs to be less sensitive and learn her place. Parents should berespected.”
“Respectis not breaking your arm in response to you hitting her.” Lukas hisses, and Mom’s face contorts as Lukas applies pressure. “Respect is not supplication. Respect is not worship. Respect doesn’t mean holding everything in until it destroys you.Respectis talking to someone when you’ve been hurt, because you trust them to hear you. If beingworshippedmeans more to you than a relationship with your daughter, we are done here, and you can get out of our house.”
“You don’t have the right to tell me what to do,” Mom spits, yanking on her arm. “Come on, Clara. We’re done. We’re going home. Brent, get our things.”
Nobody moves.
Brent whines, “I don’t want to go home yet. We’ve barely been here. I want to see what games Frost has.” Brent brightens. “Can I be in a video?”
“Are you still recording, Crimson?” Kyran drawls.
“Yup.”
“Congratulations, kid. You’re in a video.”
Brent scowls. “One of the videos on your channel.”
“Can you stop recording, Crimson?” Morana asks sweetly. “I’m gonna stab this guy with my fork, and I don’t want it on record.”
Daintily, Crimson puts her phone away.
“You’re all sick and twisted!” Mom hollers. “Clara, do something. Somebody,do something.”
What gets done is that my brothers escort my old family out, tossing their luggage after them.
“He’ll get bored of you!” Mom slurs before the door can close. “Once he’s done with your—” She swears about my chest. “—you’ll be coming crying back to me, you ungrateful—”
Lukas slams the door on her, and silence plagues the dim foyer. My heart rattles in my ears, and my hand remains cool against my burning face. Tears, sticky and warm, continue down my cheeks.
Static fills the holes in my skull.
“I’m…sorry,” I whisper before a crash makes me flinch.
Crimson moves, lightning fast, and catches a rock soaring through the front window beside the door before it hits Crisis. Swearing, she drops the stone into the glass shards and frames Crisis’s cheeks, blocking her body from the outside. Worry consumes her—loveconsumes her. “Dearness…are you all right?”
“Totally.” Crisis tugs on Viktor’s shirt. “The camerasoutsideprobably caught that, huh?”
“Yep,” Viktor states, also protecting Crisis from the possibility of the outdoors coming to hurt her.
Wicked, Crisis grits, “Andwe’re pressing charges, right?”
My eldest brother’s eyes find me, settle, linger gently. “That’s up to Clara.”
