Page 206 of Midnight Curfew

I bring it down, but I’m grabbed from behind and find myself flying off the chair, my ax still stuck in the rafter.

“You’ve done enough damage!” he yells.

I stumble onto the floor, standing up and shoving him away. “I’m leaving anyway!”

I don’t know if the tears come then or if they were on my face when I had the ax, but my face is wet. Macon, Army, and the others standing outside the room—watching—stare at me.

Macon’s brow pinches together. “Because of him?” he yells.

Fuck this. Fuck everything. I don’t have to be here. He’s right. I made it worse, and I’m fucking miserable. Bolting past them, I shove past Iron and Trace, go into my room, and finish stuffing shit into my backpack.

I throw on a T-shirt, grab my cell and charger, and run past everyone, down the stairs.

“You’re not going anywhere!” Macon barks.

I hear them coming after me.

“Get the kids in their rooms!” he tells someone behind me.

I grab my shoes off the floor and reach for the door, and he grips the back of my neck, pushing me into the living room. Santos and my friend Tyson stand frozen, Aracely pausing in the kitchen.

“Everyone out!” he growls.

All three of them scram, and I let my shoes fall. I slam the side of my fist against a mirror, a shard splintering onto the floor.

I’m not a child! He can’t stop me.

The front door closes, and he charges, taking me by the neck in both hands and forcing me to the window.

“You think you’re the only one who’s ever fucked up?” he howls. “You think you’re the most important one here?”

I fight him, then press my hands against the window frame, trying to push myself away.

But he forces me to look outside, at the people racing to move cars off the street and carry boards to Mariette’s. “They’re more important than you and me and everyone in this house!” he bellows. “Because they can’t protect themselves!”

He releases me, shoves me into the middle of the living room.

“You got two jobs in this life, Dallas!” He stalks back up to me, the rest of my family staying back in the foyer. “Love someone and be of service, and if you leave to do anything other than that, you’re just going to wind up right back here, because nothing else matters!”

I wince.

“Ever!” he screams. “You’re a sanctuary or you’re nothing!”

I break, my hands going to my hair as I bow my head to hide the tears.

A sanctuary? Is he kidding? No one comes to me for comfort.

I always knew that no one should.

“I let her die,” I tell him.

There’s silence; no one says anything.

“What do you mean?” Macon asks.

Dropping my hands, I stare at the floor, my breathing calming and my face relaxing. If this gets them to let me leave, then fine.

“I was alone with her that day.” I see my siblings inch into the room. “I heard the crying, I heard the chair scrape against the floor. I heard it fall.”