Elite Fraud

Chapter 15: I Will Survive

I wipe my clammy hands on the rough fabric of my jeans and twist the keys in the lock, the clang of metal on metal too intrusive in the dark hallway of our small quiet building. Mom must realize I'm here because I start to hear her light footsteps approaching from inside, followed by heavier running ones—Roan.

I push the door open and brace myself for the worst. The first thing I notice is the red-purple bruise on her cheekbone under puffy, swollen eyes. Then, her beautiful hair messier than ever, thick locks falling out of her low bun. Roan stands next to her, looking younger than his age, hiding behind her long skirt.

I rush to them in two long strides, hugging them with both arms and a fresh wave of tears threatens to spill. I push it back, having composed myself the minute Theo drove away. He asked if he should stay because he didn't mind, but I insisted that he shouldn't. He's already done enough.

Mom shakes her head in her hands. "I'm so sorry, I'm sorry. I don't know—"

"Shhh," I soothe her.

I know very well the reason behind her sudden remorse. She's afraid it's her fault, that he turned out this way because of her, because she was never enough for him. She's sorry that she couldn't do more to protect herself, to protect us. I know this very well because although we look and act nothing alike, although she's a soft peach and I'm a hard apple, I grew up sharing those exact fears and insecurities.

"You didn't do anything wrong. You never did. It was him," I mutter to her—and myself.

She nods in my chest and tries to believe my words. We stay like this for a while until she pulls away, shakily wiping the wet patches on her cheeks, and looks at me like she just remembered something. Eyes wide, she asks, "I heard yelling downstairs. What happened, honey?"

I explain to her the ordeal, leaving out the excruciating details that I'd gone through myself like the defeated look on my father's face when he finally walked away. By the end of it, she's in another fit of tears but I convince her that it's the right thing. She has to believe it. "At least he's not in jail," I say to which she nods tearfully.

After cleaning her up and taking her to bed, I am exhausted and drained, both physically and mentally.

I step into my room silently, cautious of the strewn shirts and empty bottles on the floor. There's a lump under Roan's comforter indicating his presence sleeping deeply. Slumping on my own bed wearily, I can't help but wonder what Roan saw and lived through before I got that night-changing call. Did he sleep easily? Or is his brain replaying the night in his dreams?

I start to take off my shoes when Roan shifts under his comforter and sighs.

"Roan, are you still awake?"

He turns to me and peeks above his blanket. "Yeah. I can't sleep."

"I don't think anyone can tonight," I snort, taking off my other shoe when an idea pops in my head. "Wanna see something cool?"