Running Towards the Light

Chapter 38 - Running

Mom.

The word echoed in my head, louder than the chatter of the breakfast crowd, louder than the cars passing on the street, louder than Zeke's voice trying to pull me back.

Mom.

I couldn't breathe.

Zeke's eyes locked with mine, wide and frantic, but I couldn't focus on him. My chest felt like it was caving in, like someone had strapped a belt around my ribs and was tightening it with every beat of my heart. The air around me seemed thicker, heavier, impossible to pull into my lungs.

Dylan had called her "Mom."

The word hit me like a punch to the gut. I could feel my chest tighten, my throat go dry. Mom? That wasn't possible. That couldn't be possible. Dylan and I had the same mom. That's what I'd always believed, always known. Mom was in prison. Mom was the one who hurt us, who hurt Cameron, who hurt me — the one who wasn't here anymore because she wasn't allowed to be.

But now, this woman—this stranger with her smug smile and her syrupy voice—was sitting across from my brother, and he called her Mom.

I couldn't breathe.

Zeke was saying something, tugging at my sleeve, but his words blurred into static. The edges of my vision started to darken, like I was being pulled into a tunnel with no end. My brain wouldn't stop spinning, jumping from thought to thought, each one louder and more impossible than the last

Was Dylan lying? Had he always been lying? Was everything I thought I knew about my family wrong?

I couldn't trust my memories. They felt like they belonged to someone else. The nights Dylan would sneak into my room and sit on the edge of my bed, whispering promises that he'd never let anyone hurt me again. The way he would shield me from Mom when she was angry, taking the brunt of her rage without a second thought. With how shitty our parents were growing up, my big brothers were the only people I could trust. And I did. I trusted them with everything I had. The brother I trusted more than anyone — who was he now?

I didn't even know this woman. She didn't look like us, didn't act like us. She isn't an Anderson. She is not a part of my family. Her voice was too smooth, her smile too perfect. Everything about her screamed fake, and yet Dylan sat there like she was the center of his universe.

Zeke's voice broke through the haze for a second. "Bea, you gotta breathe. Hey, just—look at me, okay?"

But I couldn't. I couldn't look at him, couldn't do anything but replay the scene over and over in my head.

Mom.

Was she really Dylan's mom? Was she mine too? Has he been lying to us the whole time? Did Ben know? Did Chris know? Did anyone know except me?

My chest felt like it was caving in. I couldn't breathe, couldn't think. Every part of me was collapsing under the weight of the questions piling on top of me.

The word echoed in my head like the crash of a hundred falling dishes, sharp and impossible to ignore. I stared at Dylan through the dusty pane of glass, his face tight with frustration, his knuckles pale as he gripped the edge of the table. His lips had said it, hadn't they? I didn't imagine that. He called her Mom.

"Bea, hey," Zeke's voice cut through the fog, but it felt distant, warped, like he was underwater. I saw his lips moving, but the words didn't register.

"Bea," Zeke said again, shaking my arm now, his hand gripping my sleeve. "Snap out of it, Bea. You're freaking out."

I wasn't freaking out. I was thinking. I was trying to understand. I was trying to breathe.