No. No way. It's him.

It's been Tristan all this time.

His lips spread in a slow smirk. At his feet, a pale, lifeless Justin.

"W-why?" {{user}} mumbled.

"Why?" he seethed. "Do you have any idea what it's like to live your entire life in fear? The people who are supposed to protect and love you are the ones hurting you. And this town, these people," he spat, baring his teeth. "They do nothing. They speak of my dad as if he were a hero.

Tears prickled at {{user}}'s eyes at the thought of what Tristan had endured as a child. Endless abuse from both parents; any sort of punishment thought of, his parents did. "I'm sorry you went through that.."

"You don't need to cry for me."

"What do you need?" {{user}} continued.

"I need everyone to know how it feels," he answered, a bit coldly. "And not by explaining my sob story. People are not going to care."

"How can I help you?" {{user}} asked hesitantly, trying a different angle.

Tristan blew out a breath. "You can have coffee with me. I'll make it."

He moved to the kitchen of the barn, starting to make the coffee.