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The pounding in my head drowns it out, my pulse roaring in my ears as Matty’s words echo repeatedly.

Something inside me cracks, splitting me open so violently that I nearly choke on the shards. My chest aches fiercely, the kind of pain that doesn’t fade but carves into your bones, and I reach up, trying to rub away the sensation.

But it doesn’t stop.

The burns on my arms itch, phantom reminders of a past I can never escape. I scratch at them under my sleeves, the sting grounding me as Aunt Pearl’s voice slithers into my mind.

Such an ugly boy.

Useless.

Matty doesn’t even realize what he’s done, too wrapped up in defending the relationship I can’t support. Because it’s killing me to watch him settle for less than he deserves, to watch him fade into someone I barely recognize.

But then again, who am I to talk?

The voices at the table grow louder, overlapping in a cacophony of anger. It isn’t until the small hand squeezing mine becomes almost painful that I snap out of my spiraling thoughts.

Hannah’s tears spill over her lashes, her little lips trembling as she looks around the table, taking in all the shouting. My self-hatred dissipates instantly, replaced by a fierce protectiveness that drowns out everything else.

“Hey, come on. Let’s go outside.”

Pushing to my feet, I scoop her into my arms, effectively silencing the table. The shouting cuts off as her small sobs fill the air. She buries her face into my neck, her body trembling against mine, and I barely catch the way Matty’s brows slam down in concern before I turn toward the exit.

“Where are you going?”

“Need some air,” I grit out, walking away without a backward glance.

The evening sun hits me hard when I step out into the parking lot, the heat lingering as it dips below the horizon. Sweat trickles down my back under the leather jacket, but I don’t care.

Leaning against the Benz, I shift her onto my hip, her little sniffles tearing me apart. “Don’t cry, Creetch. It’s alright.”

“I don’t like it when they fight,” she whispers, clinging tighter to my neck.

“When who fights?”

Her lip wobbles as she rubs at her eyes with balled-up fists. “Mommy and Daddy.”

I pause, frowning at her tear-streaked face. “Do they fight often?”

“Sometimes. Mommy yells a lot.”

A sharp pang shoots through my chest, stealing my breath. I wipe a thick glob of snot from her nose with my sleeve, pressing a kiss to her temple as my mind races.

Hannah doesn’t deserve this—none of it.

Before I can respond, footsteps approach from behind, and I turn to see Matty making his way over. He stops short when he catches my scowl, hesitating as he stuffs his hands into his pockets.

“Is she okay?”

Hannah’s head pops up when she hears his voice, her eyes watering as she reaches for her father. The sight twists the knife in my chest, the ache almost unbearable. Reluctantly, I pass her over, remembering a time not so long ago when she would’ve clung to me instead.

He pats her back, murmuring softly as she tucks her face into his shoulder. I look away, swallowing hard against the lump in my throat. Several minutes pass in silence, broken only by the occasional sniffle from Hannah.

When I glance back, Matty is staring at me over the top of her head. Our gazes lock, and the air between us grows heavy for a fleeting second until he quickly looks away, licking his lips nervously.

“Look, about all that… I’m sorry—"

“Why?” I cut him off with a humorless laugh. “Don’t be sorry. You were just speaking the truth. Why would you choose me?”