Page 146 of Joker

But she nods. “Yeah.”

I stare out at the trees for a second, hands braced on the railing, trying to figure out how the hell to start. There’s no clean version of this.

No easy segue intohey, now that you told me about the man who ruined your life, wanna hear about the dead people in mine?

So I go with blunt. “My family died in a car wreck.”

The silence beside me changes immediately. Not startled. Not awkward.

Just attentive.

I keep my eyes on the horizon because if I look at her while I say this, I might decide I hate vulnerability enough to stop halfway through. “My parents and my little sister,” I say. “I was the only one who lived.”

The words still feel weird in my mouth. Not because they aren’t true. Because they are. Because they’ve been true so long they’ve calcified into part of the architecture. Still, saying them out loud always feels like stepping on old broken glass barefoot.

Raven doesn’t interrupt.

So I keep going. “I was old enough to remember all of it. Young enough nobody knew what the hell to do with me after.” I let out a short breath through my nose. “No close family that wanted me. No backup plan. Just a bunch of people with clipboards deciding where to put the kid who didn’t fit anywhere anymore.”

That part still stings in a way I don’t usually let myself examine. Not the foster system itself. The feeling underneath it.

Disposable.

Temporary.

Easy to move around.

I glance down at the weathered porch boards and shake my head once. “I bounced around some before I landed in the group home. That’s where I met Shadow and Blaze.”

That gets her attention enough that I finally look at her. She’s watching me with that same stillness I gave her last night.

No pity. No softness that would make me feel like I’m being handled.

Just there.

I can work with there. “We were all fucked up in our own special ways,” I mutter. “Different reasons. Same damage.”

That almost gets the smallest smile out of her. Good, because this part’s ugly enough without drowning in it.

“Shadow was all sharp edges and bad instincts back then. Blaze ran his mouth like he’d die if he didn’t. I mostly just…” I shrug. “Hit things.”

Raven’s mouth twitches now. “Shocking.”

“Yeah, I know. Hard to picture.”

That gets me a real smile this time. Tiny. Still real. And Christ, I needed that more than I realized.

I look back out at the darkening yard and let the next part come on its own. “I didn’t really do grief,” I say. “Not the healthy version, anyway. I just got meaner. Harder. Learned pretty fastthat if the world was gonna keep swinging, I’d better start hitting back.”

The porch goes quiet again. But it’s not a bad quiet. Not empty. Just full of things that didn’t exist between us a few weeks ago and now feel like they’ve been there all along.

I look at her then. Really look. At the woman in my sweatshirt with my future sitting all over her face whether she realizes it or not. And because I’ve apparently decided today is a great day to ruin my own emotional stability completely, I tell her the part I usually leave out.

“The worst part wasn’t losing them,” I say quietly.

Raven’s expression shifts. Softens around the edges. “What was?”

I look away before I answer. “The guilt.”