FIVE YEARS EARLIER
The first thought that goes through my head when I slowly peel open one eye is that heaven looks and feels a lot like real life.
I can smell disinfectant and coffee. There are four pairs of wide eyes looking at me. My body feels broken. I am in a hospital bed, slumped back against a thick stack of pillows, a cup of water on the small table to my left. Two of the four pairs of eyes belong to police officers. The other two belong to a man and woman in suits. They hover by the door, watching me closely with saddened gazes.
My right eye refuses to open. My left slowly drifts back to the police officers. One is sitting on a chair in the corner, the other standing by his side. It takes me a minute, but I recognize the one that’s sitting down. It’s the same officer from last week. The one who picked me up on the street. The one who was nice to me. Officer Gonzalez.
“Tyler,” he says quietly, his voice fragile, breaking the silence. The room is tense and suffocating. I don’t know what’s going on. My head is fuzzy. I try to focus solely on Officer Gonzalez. “Do you remember me? We met last week.” I can’t even nod. I can’t do anything. I am frozen in place, unable to process anything. Officer Gonzalez motions to the other cop. “This is Officer Johnson. And I’d like you to meet Paul and Janice,” he says, nodding to the man and woman by the door. “They’re social workers. They’re going to look after you.”
I try to part my lips to say something, to ask what is happening, but my entire face is throbbing. My throat is too dry. I have no words at all. Nothing comes out. I glance down at my arms, but they are black and blue. There’s a bandage around one of my hands. There’s one around my head too.
I hear Officer Gonzalez quietly murmur, “Please, give us a minute.” There are footsteps. The door closes. I look up at him. We are the only two in the room now. He stands up and grabs the chair, setting it down again by the side of my bed. He sits down. Hangs his head low, presses his hands to his face. “Tyler,” he says, but his voice breaks. He lifts his head to look at me, but his warm brown eyes are full of sorrow. “I’m so sorry. I should have . . . I should have known.”
“W-what . . . What happened?” I finally spit out. The words tear my throat apart, but I can’t find the energy to reach for the water on the table. I feel so lifeless, so drained.
Officer Gonzalez shakes his head at the floor, his eyes closing for a brief second. He’s upset. His lower lip quivers as he looks at me again, but his eyes are crinkling at their corners. “Your brother. Jamie,” he says. “You are lucky to have him, because otherwise you might not have been here right now. He called us. We got there just in time.” He interlocks his hands between his knees and goes quiet for a moment. Slowly, he takes a deep breath and glances back up. “Your father has been arrested, Tyler,” he states, and the weight of the world crashes down on me.
He knows. They all know. The secret I have been keeping for four years is now out there in the open. They know about Dad, about what he’s capable of. And he . . . He has been arrested? It’s over. It’s really, really over.
“And I . . .” Officer Gonzalez says, but he is choking up. He reaches up and wipes away a tear with his thumb, then edges forward in his chair and locks his eyes on mine. “I absolutely promise you that he will never, ever hurt you again. I will personally guarantee it. You’re going to be okay now.”
“I am?” I whisper. It doesn’t feel like I’m going to be okay. It feels like everything around me is shattering. I expected it all to be over, but I didn’t expect to still be alive to witness it.
“You are,” Officer Gonzalez confirms with a steady nod. He holds out his hand to me, but he knows I can’t shake it, so he gently pats the bandage on my hand instead and gives me a tiny smile. It’s full of remorse and sadness, but also hope and reassurance, and I decide that I am going to believe him.
I’m going to be okay. No one will ever hurt me again.
The door bursts open and the silence is disrupted when Mom flies into the room, her heels clicking against the floor, flanked by Officer Johnson, who is trying to reach for her elbow to pull her back. She stops dead in her tracks when she lays eyes on me. Horror floods her features and a sickening gasp escapes her lips. Her hands fly to her mouth, her jaw hung open wide.
I don’t even have to look at myself to know that I am in a bad state. The pain I am feeling already tells me that.
“What happened?!” Mom screams as she dives toward me, pushing past Officer Gonzalez. She is about to reach for my hand, but she stops herself when she sees just how badly beaten up I am, and she erupts into tears, shaking her head fast, her hand still over her mouth. She has just come from work. She’s still in her skirt and blouse, but strands of her hair have escaped from her clasp, falling around her face. I hate that she’s crying. I want her to stop, to tell her that it’s okay now, that it’s over. I’m safe now. She doesn’t need to cry.
“Ella,” Officer Gonzalez says as he rises from the chair, “can we do this outside?” He steps in between Mom and me, placing a firm hand on her shoulder. He lowers his voice and leans in closer to her, but I still hear him murmur, “Not in front of Tyler. Please.”
She is still crying as he leads her out of the room and into the hallway. Officer Johnson goes with them. Paul and Janice enter the room, closing the door behind them, their eyes never leaving me. There is silence again.
I close my eye, returning to the darkness. Are they telling Mom the truth? Are they about to break her heart? I don’t know if I can bear it. I am waiting, listening, staring into the dark. My heart is beating slow and heavy in my chest. My breathing is even slower.
And then I hear it: The explosion of Mom’s agonizing cries. Her distraught sobbing echoes all throughout the hallways, ringing in my ears, growing louder and louder, laced with the pain that I never wanted her to ever go through. She is screaming, a strangled cry that captures all of the air around me, suffocating both of us.
I never wanted to break her like this.
Mom bursts through the door of my room as she wails. Officer Gonzalez and Officer Johnson scramble in behind her, but I can’t look at them. Mom is the only thing I can focus on. Hot tears are streaming down her face and her hands are pressed to her chest, clutching her heart as though to catch all of its broken pieces. Her frantic, pained eyes meet mine, and I break inside too. It’s like four years’ worth of fear finally comes to a head and the relief is overwhelming, and so I burst into tears too.
“Mom,” I whisper. I want her to pull me into her arms, to hold me close against her and promise me that everything will be okay from now on. That she’ll be here to protect me. That Dad won’t hurt me ever again.
“Tyler,” she sobs, and she is shaking her head fast, like No no no this can’t be real. She pushes her way to me, outstretching her arms, but Janice steps in front of her, holding out a hand.
“Mrs. Grayson, please, he’s in a lot of pain. Don’t touch hi—”
“Let her,” Officer Gonzalez orders, and I don’t hear what he says next, but all four of them leave the room. The police officers and the social workers. They’re gone, leaving only Mom and me.
Before the door has even clicked shut behind them, Mom drops to her knees on the floor by my bedside. Her lips are quivering as her mascara runs down her cheeks, her wide eyes swollen and red as she looks up at me. “I’m here, baby, I’m here now,” she cries, and she gently takes my hand in her own and buries her face into our interlocked hands, weeping against my skin. Her shoulders are heaving and her breathing is ragged, and I wish I could take her pain away the same way she wishes she could take away mine.
I squeeze my hand tightly around hers.
She’s here now.