“These aren’t birthmarks.
This isn’t a disease.”
I stared right into her tear-filled eyes.
“These scars…
are the only reason you are still alive.”…
For twelve years, I had worn long sleeves in the dead of summer.
For twelve years, I had endured relentless heat, whispers from classmates, and constant isolation.
I accepted every bit of it for one reason—
to protect Chloe from remembering the night our world burned down.
I sacrificed my youth.
My comfort.
My confidence.
Everything.
Just to keep those monsters buried inside the darkest corner of her mind.
But as I looked into the pure hatred burning behind her beautiful eyes, a devastating realization settled over me.
The silence wasn’t protecting Chloe anymore.
It was poisoning her.
The lie had twisted into something ugly.
It was turning her into someone cruel.
Someone incapable of seeing the people who had loved her most.
If I kept hiding, she would spend the rest of her life hating me.
And hating our parents.
The instinct that had defined my entire existence suddenly changed.
Protection became resolve.
I slowly stood.
The scraping of my chair cut through the sound of my father’s sobbing.
