Chapter 23

“We’re going where?” I yelp, eyes wide as my mother rubs her temples.

“To Sean’s house for Slater’s birthday dinner. It’s a surprise for him, so don’t say anything,” Mom tells me, looking more tired than usual.

I never did tell her about the attack. Instead, I hid the bruising for a week like a coward, and pretended the entire thing never happened. At least now I can cover the fading bruises with makeup.

I shake my head as my mom’s words sink in. What the hell does she mean we’re going to my Sean’s house? We’ve had almost zero communication with him since the divorce and suddenly we’re dinner guests?

I don’t like this at all.

“Tonight?” I ask carefully, sure that I’m misunderstanding her.

“Yes, tonight.”

“But tonight is senior night.” I pout. Dinner to celebrate Slater doesn’t sound too bad. However, dinner with my stepdad sounds like a nightmare. Why the fuck would he want to have dinner with my mom? They’re divorced!

“You can go to your senior night after dinner.”

“Fine.”

I head back upstairs. Today was my last day of school. Tomorrow we just have to go in to practice for graduation, and then on Friday, it’s the real deal. Graduation. Crazy to think that if I hadn’t fought so hard in the bathroom that day, I might not have made it to see all my hard work pay off.

“Be ready by five!” Mom calls up the stairs as I flee.

Two hours later, I’m making my way back downstairs. I got ready for senior night, so I can leave the dinner and head straight there.

“Wow,” I say when I see my mother. She’s all dressed up. God, I really hope it’s not for Sean’s benefit. I think I’d die if they got back together. He’s…not a nice guy. Or maybe the problem with Sean is that he was always too nice. To me anyway.

We head to my stepfather’s house together. The whole drive, I feel sick to my stomach. I hate the man, and haven’t seen him in years.

When we get to the impressive house that I once used to live in, but could never really call home, my anxiety ratchets up by about a thousand. Just seeing the outside of the grand property again makes my palms sweat. I have to consciously force myself to breathe, and not to fling open the door and run as far away as I can.

Mom grabs a gift for Slater and a bottle of wine from the trunk once we’re parked and asks me to go ahead and ring the bell.

Sean answers it, much to my disappointment. In my head, I thought maybe this would be bearable if Slater’s somewhat friendly face was the first thing I saw. My stomach sinks and twists into a painful knot.

“Hello, Cora,” he says. His voice is like nails on a blackboard, and I have to suppress a shudder.

Swallowing hard, I try to force out a welcome, a smile, anything, but I can’t. Satisfaction flashes across Sean’s face.

“Hello, Sean,” my mom says warmly, passing him the bottle of wine. “Thank you for inviting us over.”

That’s how you thank your host, Cora.

Yeah, but I don’t want to thank him for shit.

“How…lovely,” Sean replies, looking at the wine like it might poison him. What an ass. We can’t all drink hundred dollar bottles like they’re tap water.

Mom’s smile falters for a second, but then she sticks it firmly back in place. “Where’s the birthday boy?” she asks brightly, shifting the gift, wrapped in dollar store wrapping paper, into her other hand. Sean eyes the gift like it’s a bomb.

I want to snap that it won’t fucking bite him, but honestly, I’m a bit hurt by the gift. She didn’t manage to get me, her daughter, a gift on time for my eighteenth, but she managed to scrape enough together to get, and wrap, something for Slater?

The stupid thing is, he won’t even appreciate whatever it is she’s got him. Not because he’s an ass like his father, but because he’s rich. There’s nothing inside that gaudy paper that they won’t already have for themselves but a thousand times better.

The money spent on the wine and present would have been better spent putting groceries in the fridge.

“Come in, come in. We’ll go through to the lounge until Slater arrives,” Sean says, stepping out of the way to usher my mom in. I don’t move. My feet are frozen to the porch and my brain is trying to slowly compute his words.

“He’s not here?” I ask, dumbfounded. It’s his birthday meal, how can he not be here?

Sean’s smug grin is serpentine, matching his slick public persona. It’s hard to believe he looks so much like Slater, and yet so different. They both share the same dark hair, but where Slater’s is a little wild, Sean’s is oiled back and immaculate. Similar dark blue eyes stare down at me, but they lack all of the warmth and sparkle of his son’s. I think Slater may even be taller than his dad now, but without seeing them side by side, it’s hard to know for sure. I do know though that no amount of time away from Sean’s presence has changed my feelings towards him. He still creeps me the fuck out with the intense way he stares at me.

He shakes his head, waits until my mom’s back disappears into the lounge, and then leans forward. If my mom was to come back, it would look like he’s just closing the door, but he isn’t. He’s crowding my space. Intimidating me. Taunting me.

“Poor little Cora, still pining after her big brother for love.”

Deciding that it’s better to be in there with Mom than out here with him, I step past Sean - with difficulty because he doesn’t budge an inch to let me past - as he closes the door.

His hand on the small of my back turns me rigid with fear.

“Come, little Cora. You can tell me all about what’s been happening in your life. Are you still desperately trying to be good?”

“So, when will Slater arrive?”I ask, what feels like hours later.

We’ve only been at Sean’s house for around an hour, but it feels like so much longer. My ex-stepfather barely spares my mother a glance - and I don’t miss the hurt puppy dog looks that she keeps giving him - but he has been unable to tear his eyes from me the entire time.

It’s disconcerting, the looks he’s giving me. My stomach is so twisted and knotted like barbed wire, that I don’t know how I’ll even be able to eat, and that will just bring more unwanted attention my way.

When it’s time to sit at the table, I take the seat furthest away from my stepfather that I can. The table is set for six people, but as far as I know, we’re only waiting on Slater to arrive.

I could ask who else we’re expecting, but I refuse to start a conversation with the man. It’s bad enough that I’ve spent the last hour being grilled non-stop about school, my exams, my grades, graduation, my job, my love life. I had to run to the bathroom when that topic came up, but there was nothing in my stomach to lose.

“Shortly,” is my stepfather’s only response. I remain silent as we wait. My mother sips her wine. The whole atmosphere is uncomfortable and awkward. Sean appears to be enjoying himself though.

“Finally,” I grumble, when I hear the door open. Only, the two people that step into the room certainly aren’t Slater. His Uncle Alan, and his Aunt Heather enter the room. I slump back into my chair.

I hate his aunt, Heather. She is a grade-A cunt. Snobby, uptight, and creepy. Looking just like her brother, but with perma-tanned leathery skin and dark hair that’s thin and wiry. She’s always been a bitch to me, seeming to hate my mom and me for becoming part of this family - clearly because we’re poor and not good enough for her brother and her precious nephew - and especially hating that Slater and I were so close when we were younger. She saw me as a bad influence.

His uncle is…polite enough I guess, but he lets his wife push him around. He’s short, balding, and clueless to what a bitch his wife is. Or is too drunk to notice. He doesn’t have a backbone. No one in the family stands up to her - even Sean. It’s like she’s self-appointed herself the matriarch of the family, but without encompassing any of the responsibilities or good traits that come with that role.

I know Slater hates them too. I heard him telling his dad as much when we were younger. He was always so adamant that he didn’t want them around, and one summer when his aunt invited him to go and stay there with them on his own, he point-blank refused to go.

When Sean threatened to make him, Slater ran away for two days. When we found him, my mom offered to use her holiday to stay home and care for us instead, so that Slater didn’t have to go.

I know we’re all older now, but I can’t imagine Slater’s feelings toward the woman changing that drastically. So I can’t fathom why his father would invite them for his birthday dinner.

Heather looks down her nose at me as she takes the seat across from me at the table.

“Cora.” It’s her only greeting to me, before she turns to Sean. “Where is the birthday boy?” she asks, her face lighting up. She has an unhealthy attachment to her nephew. Maybe it’s because she’s never had children of her own.

“Slater!” Sean booms before he can answer Heather, and we all turn to the open doorway where Slater has just appeared.

I frown. He looks awful.

His eyes are glued to his aunt. Everyone stands to greet him, and I can’t help but notice the way his body goes ramrod straight when Heather wraps him up in a hug.

She coos over him, touching his hair and his face, and the entire time, Slater stares at the wall behind her head, completely zoned out. Once Heather steps away, his uncle holds his hand out for Slater to shake. He takes it with trembling fingers and a stony expression.

When my mother steps up to hug him, he flinches slightly - almost unnoticeably - but after a moment in my mom’s embrace, some of his tension eases. But not much. When our eyes meet, it’s like I’m looking into the eyes of a void.

Dark, soulless pain stares back at me. I’m so caught off guard, I step away from him. Pain at my rejection flashes across his face, but he doesn’t say anything. Guilt floods me.

What’s wrong Slater? I try to ask him with my eyes. I know we’re not close like we once were, but things have been getting better between us. I can see you’re hurting, so let me help.

Slater takes his place on my left, across from his dad. Heather reaches over, grabbing his hand, but he snatches it away, and tucks it under the table. His shoulders are so tense, he looks ready to snap, and my heart aches to know what’s bothering him. I have been trying to keep him at arms’ length, but seeing him like this reminds me how much I still care.

The air seems to thicken with tension, wrapping around us like a suffocating fog. Sean’s voice, dripping with false cheer, cuts through the silence like a knife, each word laced with a smirk that sends a chill down my spine.

“Happy birthday, son,” he declares, his tone as icy as his gaze fixes upon Slater. The corners of his lips curl upward, a cruel mockery disguised as paternal affection.

My stomach churns at the sight. How can a man smirk at his own flesh and blood’s discomfort? Is he completely oblivious to the pain he’s inflicting, or does he relish it, reveling in his power over us all like a twisted puppet master?

Except I already know the answer to that, because he’s a total heartless fucking bastard.

The weight of the ensuing silence presses down on me like a heavy stone, suffocating and unyielding. I glance around the room, searching desperately for some semblance of understanding in the faces of those gathered here.

My mother, bless her oblivious soul, remains untouched by the tension that hangs in the air like a storm cloud on the brink of bursting. But Sean...Sean exudes an aura of menace. His very presence casting a shadow over us all.

Alan, lost in a haze of alcohol-induced oblivion, offers no respite from the palpable unease that grips me. Heather’s grin, wide and unnerving, slices through the tension like a razor-sharp blade, her eyes gleaming with a malice I cannot fathom.

And Slater...he’s gone. A ghost, his eyes distant and haunted, lost in a world of his own making. He’s in another world, trapped inside in his mind and losing a battle against his demons.

My hand twitches involuntarily, aching to reach out beneath the table and offer Slater some small measure of comfort. But I hesitate, unsure if my touch will be welcomed or rejected.

So I let my hand fall back into my lap, fingers twisting anxiously as I bite down on my lower lip, unable to tear my gaze away from Slater’s troubled form.

Just as I summon the courage to break the suffocating silence, Slater’s voice pierces through the tension like a clarion call. “I feel sick,” he announces, his words ringing out loud and abrupt, a sharp contrast to the heavy silence that settles over us all.

My heart lurches, startled by the suddenness of his declaration, but Slater does not spare me so much as a glance as he stands abruptly, practically fleeing from the room.

“Oh, the poor boy,” Heather coos, her voice dripping with false sympathy, a sickly sweetness that sets my teeth on edge. “I better go check on him.” But I know, with a sinking certainty, that I cannot let her go after him.

“I’ll do it,” I interject before Sean can protest, my voice firm despite the trembling of my hands. “He is my brother, after all. It’s good for us to bond as siblings again.” The words taste bitter on my tongue, a lie woven with desperation and longing.

Sean’s smile, blinding in its belief, sends a chill down my spine. “Yes, thank you, Cora,” he says, oblivious to the deceit laced within my words. “Please, come see me in my office after you check on my son.”

As I rise to my feet, my gaze meets Heather’s, and if looks could kill, I would be dead a hundred times over. Her glare, sharp and cutting, follows me as I hurry out of the room, my heart heavy with dread.

The moment I step into Slater’s bedroom, I am greeted by a voice dripping with venom. “Didn’t I warn you not to come back here?”

The force of the shove sends me crashing against the wall, the breath knocked from my lungs in a gasp of pain.

“F-fuck! Cora?” Slater’s voice wavers, and he staggers back, a look of horror crossing his face. I drop to my knees, my legs unable to work as my brain overrides all thought, but trying to breathe.

“What the fuck, Slater?” I demand, my voice trembling with confusion and fear when I finally catch my breath. I stare up at him with wide eyes, not recognizing the wreck of a man before me.

“You need to leave. Now,” he hisses urgently, his eyes wild with desperation. “Leave, Cora, and never come back here.”

My frown deepens, my mind reeling with disbelief. “You’re not making any sense,” I protest, climbing to my feet.

I stare in dismay as Slater drags his hands through his hair. He looks so unlike himself. So out of control. So…terrified.

“Then let me be clear. Leave this house. If you don’t, I won’t be able to help what happens next. I can’t protect you. I can’t even protect myself.”

“Wha–” I start to ask, but Slater is already retreating, leaving me alone in the wake of his frantic warning.

As I struggle to make sense of his words, a chilling realization dawns on me. Is he talking about his father? Unable to shake off the weight of his outburst, I return to the dining room with a heavy heart, forgetting all about Sean’s command to see him in his study, the taste of fear lingering on my tongue.

As I take my seat, my mother smiles up at me, her cheeks flushed from the wine she”s been sipping. The corners of her lips curl with a warmth that doesn”t quite reach her eyes, a facade of happiness masking the tension that simmers beneath the surface.

Across the table, Sean swirls his whiskey in its glass, his gaze fixed on me with a fierce, displeased intensity that sends a shiver down my spine. I can’t shake the feeling that there’s more to his scrutiny than meets the eye.

Does he know what’s wrong with Slater? Did he deliberately send me after him, knowing my presence wouldn”t make a difference to Slater”s mood? Is he relishing his son’s visible distress on his own birthday, or is he pleased that I”ve returned alone, without Slater by my side?

With Slater gone and the meal nearing its end, I find it increasingly difficult to justify my presence here. But my mother shows no sign of wanting to leave, her attention fixated on the lavish spread laid out before us.

“You’ll be starting college soon, isn”t that right, Cora?” Sean’s voice breaks through the tension, pulling me back to the present moment. I shake my head in response.

“Not unless I can secure several scholarships…” I meet his penetrating stare head-on. “I’ll probably just have to settle for a job somewhere local. The hours at the ice cream parlor aren”t enough to make a decent full-time wage.”

“Hmm,” Sean murmurs, taking a sip of his whiskey as if mulling over my words.

“She’s so smart, I only wish I had the funds to pay—” my mother begins, but I cut her off with a hiss.

“You do more than enough for me,” I interject, my tone sharp with embarrassment and a hint of irritation.

“How sweet,” Heather sneers from across the table, her voice dripping with sarcasm, and I feel my hackles rise in response.

“The last time I saw you, you looked...different. What’s changed?” I tilt my head, unable to resist needling her. “Oh, I see. You’ve had a face lift. Hope that wasn’t too expensive.”

“Cora,” my mother scolds, but I ignore her, focusing instead on the arrival of the final course, which mercifully puts an end to my own verbal sparring. I missed the first course, but I don’t really care. I’m not hungry anymore, and I just want to leave.

The second dinner draws to a close, and Sean rises from his seat with a sense of purpose. “Cora, come with me,” he commands, and I glance toward my mother, silently pleading for her to accompany me. Instead, she simply waves me along after him, her expression unreadable.

“I’m glad you’re here tonight,” Sean says as I step into his office, gesturing toward the small love seat. Rather than taking his usual place behind the desk, he sits beside me, and the close proximity sets my nerves on edge. I know it’s deliberate too, and it makes me severely anxious.

“I wouldn’t miss Slater’s birthday,” I reply, trying to keep my voice steady, but the tension in the room is palpable.

His eyes flash with anger.

“Oh? I was hoping you missed me.” Sean’s statement catches me off guard, and I stumble over my words in response.

“Oh, uh, yeah,” I mumble, inwardly cursing myself for the lack of conviction in my reply. But I know that ‘fuck no’ might be a bit over the top.

“Good. Because I have been missing you. Very much. You were always such a good girl for me, Cora. I miss that. I don’t get to see you enough anymore. I think we should change that…”

He rests his hand on my thigh, and suddenly Slater’s words make sense.

His warnings. His behavior.

My heart rate spikes, and fear overtakes me, blurring my vision.

Is Sean the masked man? Does Slater know what his father has been doing to me this whole time? Is that why he’s been sleeping over, and watching me so carefully?

Oh, god.

Now I feel sick.

I stormout of my stepfather’s office, my heart pounding with frustration and anger. His words echo in my mind, each one like a dagger slicing through my resolve. I mutter something vague about needing to pick Lizzy up for senior night, a flimsy excuse to escape the suffocating atmosphere of his presence.

I’m not trying to be rude, but I also have no interest in finishing the conversation. The tension between us hangs heavy in the air, a silent battle of wills that I have no desire to prolong.

As I step into the cool night air, a sense of relief washes over me. The darkness offers sanctuary, a temporary reprieve from the turmoil raging within. I make my way to the community center, my footsteps quickening with each step.

Lizzy is waiting for me outside, her eyes lighting up with excitement when she sees me. “Oh, you look cute!” she squeals, and I can’t help but smile at her enthusiasm. Together, we make our way inside, the sound of music and laughter filling the air.

The community center is alive with energy, the music thumping loudly from the speakers. The dance floor is crowded with bodies swaying to the rhythm, their movements synchronized in a mesmerizing dance of motion and sound. I join Lizzy on the dance floor, the music pulsing through my veins, drowning out the noise of my troubled thoughts.

For a moment, I lose myself in the beat, allowing myself to forget about my problems, if only for a little while. The contraband alcohol that people have snuck in flows freely, the drinks served in brightly colored cups that seem to glow in the dim light of the dance floor. I take a sip, the liquid burning its way down my throat, igniting a warmth in my belly that spreads through my veins like wildfire.

But even as I dance and drink, laughter bubbling up from deep within me, there’s a part of me that can’t shake the feeling of emptiness that gnaws at my insides. I catch myself glancing around the room, searching for a familiar face that isn’t here. Slater should be here with me like he was at the last dance, his presence a comforting anchor in the storm of my emotions.

But he’s not, and I can’t help but feel a pang of sadness at his absence.

I miss him more than I can put into words. I wish he were here with me now, his laughter mingling with mine as we lose ourselves in the music and the moment.

But even as I wish for his presence, I know that he’s fighting his own demons, battling against forces that I can’t begin to understand. I just wish he’d let me in. I could help him if he’d just share his pain and confide in me. But that’s not his style.

And so I dance on, the music washing over me like a gentle tide, carrying me away from my troubles, if only for a little while longer.

As the night wears on, the pulsating beat of the music urges me to keep dancing, to lose myself completely in the euphoria of the moment. But Lizzy, for the first time ever acting as the voice of reason, insists that it”s time to go home. She sees the way I sway unsteadily on my feet, the exhaustion etched into the lines of my face, and she knows that I”ve had enough.

Reluctantly, I agree to leave, though every fiber of my being protests against the idea of ending the night so soon. But Lizzy is adamant, her concern for my well-being outweighing any desire for a few more hours of freedom.

We stumble out of the community center, the cool night air hitting me like a slap in the face. Lizzy guides me to her car, her steady hand a comforting presence in the darkness. The drive home is a blur of streetlights and empty roads, the silence between us heavy with unspoken words.

Finally, we pull up outside my house, the familiar sight offering a small measure of comfort in the midst of my turmoil. Lizzy turns to me, her eyes filled with concern. “What’s wrong, Cora?” she asks, her voice gentle but insistent.

I shake my head, unable to find the words to express the storm of emotions raging inside me. “It’s nothing,” I mumble, my voice barely above a whisper.

But Lizzy isn”t convinced, her brow furrowed with worry. “Are you sure?” she presses, her hand reaching out to touch mine.

I pull away, a sudden surge of frustration bubbling up inside me. “I said it’s nothing,” I snap, my tone sharper than I intended.

Lizzy recoils, hurt flashing across her features. “Okay,” she says, her voice tinged with sadness.

I immediately regret my outburst, but pride keeps me from apologizing. Instead, I mumble a half-hearted excuse about needing to be alone and practically shove myself out of the car before she has a chance to respond.

Inside, the silence of the house envelops me like a suffocating blanket. I head for the bathroom, the harsh fluorescent light glaring down at me as I scrub away the remnants of my makeup. Tears prick at the corners of my eyes, threatening to spill over as I think about Slater and the pain he must be feeling.

With trembling fingers, I pull out my phone and compose a message to him, my heart pounding with anticipation as I wait for a response.

“I miss you,” I type, my thumbs hovering over the send button. “I wish you were here with me. I wish you’d tell me what’s wrong. I want to help. I want to make your birthday better.”

But the seconds tick by, and still there’s no reply. A sinking feeling settles in the pit of my stomach, a sense of loneliness so profound it threatens to swallow me whole.

Defeated, I crawl into bed, the tears streaming down my cheeks as I hug my pillow to my chest. Sleep eludes me, my mind consumed by thoughts of Slater and the gaping void his harsh absence has left in me tonight. Eventually, exhaustion overtakes me, and I drift into a fitful sleep, my dreams haunted by his face and the sound of his voice echoing in the darkness.