I don’t look at your parents—I can’t. If I do, I’ll see their hurt, their fear, and I’m not ready for that. So instead, I focus on you. On your rage.

Your rage speaks to mine.

“I’m not lowering my fucking voice!” you snap, the words trembling as they leave your mouth, your jaw clenched so tight it’s a wonder your teeth don’t crack.

Your father tries to cut in, but you bulldoze over him. “You don’t get it, Dad! I couldn’t… I couldn’t fucking do anything.” Your voice wavers—less from weakness, more from the weight you’re carrying. “I’m supposed to be the one who looks after my siblings. And look how I failed. We nearly lost Glyndon, and now Brandon tries to—” your breath hitches “—tries to end it. And I just stood there. I couldn’t stop it.”

Levi’s hand finds your shoulder, steady, tentative. I can tell he’s trying to ground you.

But you pull away, almost flinching. “No… don’t. Don’t calm me down.” Your gaze flickers between all of us, wild, desperate. “It’s not fucking fair. Why them? Why do they have to deal with all this?”

Your voice drops to a hoarse whisper. “And me and Landon are just… fine.”

The silence after is heavy. Your parents look like they’re caught between wanting to hold you and not knowing if you’d let them.

I dont have the same issues as i reach out to you. Pulling you flush against my chest.