As soon as Dad's footsteps faded upstairs, the tightness in my chest released, but only slightly. My body felt weak, my hands shaking as I sat frozen on the couch, still too afraid to move. The spot on my shoulder where his fingers had dug in ached, and the bruise on my arm throbbed beneath my hoodie.

I didn't know how long I sat there, staring at the spot where he had stood, replaying his words over and over in my head. His warning was clear: he was watching me. He knew something was wrong, even if he didn't know the details yet. But I was running out of time, out of excuses.

If Dad ever found out about Adrian-really found out-everything would fall apart.

Eventually, I forced myself to stand, my legs shaky as I made my way back upstairs. Every step felt like a weight pressing down on me, the depression wrapping around me tighter, suffocating me. I could still feel his fingers on my shoulder, the cold threat in his voice echoing in my mind.

I paused outside Maxim's room, hearing the faint sound of his voice through the door. He was probably on a late-night call with one of his friends or maybe playing a game. He had always been more relaxed than the rest of us, but even he had noticed something was wrong lately. I knew he was keeping an eye on me, watching when I came home, when I avoided dinner, when I disappeared into my room without saying a word.

I kept walking, though, not wanting to wake him-or worse, raise more suspicion. As I reached the top of the stairs, I heard another door creak open down the hall. Lorenzo stepped out, his face heavy with sleep but his eyes instantly narrowing when he saw me.

"What are you doing up?" he asked, his voice low, careful not to wake anyone.

I froze for a second, the weight of everything pressing down on me. Lorenzo had always been the protective one, the one who watched out for everyone, but lately, his concern felt suffocating. I couldn't keep lying to him forever.

"I-" I swallowed, trying to keep my voice steady. "I was just getting some water."

Lorenzo's gaze lingered on me, his eyes sharp even in the dim light. "You look like you just saw a ghost," he said quietly, stepping closer. "Is everything okay?"

I forced a smile, though it felt thin and shaky. "Yeah, just... couldn't sleep."

Lorenzo didn't move. He just stood there, watching me, his expression unreadable. For a moment, I thought he might push harder, that he might ask the questions I had been dreading. But instead, he sighed and rubbed a hand over his face, shaking his head.

"You've been like this for weeks," he muttered, his voice tight. "You're not okay, and we all know it."

The words hit harder than I expected, and for a second, I didn't know how to respond. He knew. They all knew. And no matter how much I tried to hide it, they were seeing through the cracks.

"I'm just tired," I whispered, though the lie felt hollow.

Lorenzo's eyes narrowed, his suspicion deepening. "It's more than that. You're not telling us everything."

Before I could respond, the door to Elijah's room opened, and he stepped into the hall, looking between me and Lorenzo, his brow furrowed. "What's going on?"

Lorenzo glanced at Elijah, then back at me. "She's not okay," he said bluntly, his voice firm. "Something's going on, and she won't tell us what."

Elijah crossed his arms, leaning against the doorframe as he watched me closely. "We've all noticed," he said quietly. "You're not yourself lately."

My chest tightened, the walls closing in on me as I stood between them. I could feel the panic rising, the fear that if I said the wrong thing, everything would unravel. If they started digging, they'd find out about Adrian. They'd find out about the bruises, the panic attacks, the self-harm, and worst of all, they'd figure out how much danger I was really in with Dad.

"I'm fine," I whispered, my voice barely audible. "It's just been a lot with school and... other stuff."

"Other stuff?" Maxim's voice suddenly joined the conversation, startling me as he emerged from his room, his hair tousled, and sleep still heavy in his eyes. "What kind of 'other stuff'?"

I swallowed hard, my heart pounding. "It's nothing. I'm just stressed, that's all."

Lorenzo exchanged a glance with Elijah, and I could see the unspoken conversation between them. They didn't believe me. None of them did. And the more I denied it, the more suspicious they became.

"Listen," Lorenzo said, stepping closer, his voice softer but still filled with concern. "If something's going on, we can help. You don't have to deal with it alone."

"You don't get it," I snapped before I could stop myself. The words came out sharper than I intended, and I winced as all three of them stared at me in surprise.

Elijah took a step toward me, his eyes narrowing. "Then help us get it."

I felt trapped. They were closing in, pushing harder than they ever had before. The panic clawed at my throat, making it hard to breathe. If they kept asking questions, if they figured out even a fraction of what was happening, everything would fall apart. And if Dad caught wind of their suspicions...

"I just need space," I said quickly, my voice shaking. "Please, just-just drop it."

There was a long silence, and I could feel their eyes on me, heavy with concern and suspicion. But after a moment, Elijah sighed, rubbing a hand over his face.

"Fine," he muttered, his voice tired. "But this isn't over."

Without waiting for a response, he turned and headed back to his room, closing the door behind him. Maxim lingered for a moment longer, his eyes flicking between me and Lorenzo, but he didn't say anything. He just gave me a small nod before heading back into his room.

Lorenzo stayed, though, watching me closely. His expression had softened, but the concern in his eyes was still sharp.

"We're not blind," he said quietly. "We know something's wrong, and we're going to find out what it is."

I didn't respond. I couldn't. I just stood there, staring at him, feeling the panic settle deep in my chest. After a long moment, Lorenzo sighed and shook his head, retreating to his room.

After Lorenzo finally closed his door, the silence in the hallway was suffocating. I stood frozen, the weight of their words pressing down on me from all sides. I felt like I couldn't breathe, like the walls were closing in, leaving me no room to move, no room to escape. My heart pounded in my chest, a frantic, uneven rhythm that made my head spin.

I stayed there, leaning against the wall, trying to steady myself, but nothing worked. I could still feel Lorenzo's eyes on me, even though he was gone. The way he had looked at me-so full of suspicion, of worry-it twisted in my stomach like a knife. They knew. They were starting to see through the cracks, and no matter how hard I tried to cover them up, it wasn't enough.

The panic came in waves-sharp, relentless, like I was drowning in it. My breath came in short gasps, my chest tightening until it felt like my ribs would crack under the pressure. I pressed my hand against my mouth to keep from making a sound, but the sobs were already clawing at my throat.

I stumbled back into my room, shutting the door softly behind me, my hands shaking so badly that I could barely turn the lock. The moment the door clicked shut, I collapsed onto the floor, my back pressed against the cold wood. My chest heaved, the tears spilling over as I pulled my knees to my chest, trying to hold myself together.

But I couldn't.

My breath hitched in my throat, and the panic surged harder, flooding my system until I couldn't think, couldn't breathe. The walls around me blurred, spinning in and out of focus, and I pressed my hands to my head, trying to make it stop. The room felt too small, like it was closing in on me, suffocating me.

I can't breathe.

I gasped for air, my throat constricting, but every breath was shallow, desperate. The tears wouldn't stop, hot and relentless, burning down my cheeks as my body shook with the force of it all. I rocked back and forth, trying to ground myself, but the panic had already taken over, swallowing me whole.

They know. They're going to find out.

My mind raced, spiraling out of control. I couldn't let them figure it out. I couldn't let them see what was happening, but I was slipping-slipping further than I could hide. Dad had his grip on me. Adrian was suffocating me. And now, my brothers... they were starting to unravel everything I had worked so hard to hide.

I needed it to stop. I needed something to stop it.

My eyes darted toward the nightstand, where the small blade I kept hidden was tucked away in the drawer. The familiar pull surged inside me, sharp and insistent. I needed to feel something else-something I could control.

With trembling hands, I crawled over to the nightstand, fumbling with the drawer until I found it. My fingers closed around the cool metal, and the world around me seemed to narrow. The panic was still there, but now, there was something else-something sharper, something more real.

I pulled up the sleeve of my hoodie, my breath coming in ragged gasps as I pressed the blade to my skin, just above the bruise Adrian had left. The sting was immediate, but it brought relief with it, cutting through the chaos in my head.

For a moment, everything went quiet. The panic dulled, replaced by the clarity of the pain. I dragged the blade across my arm again, slower this time, watching as the blood welled up and spilled down my wrist. The physical pain was sharp, clean, and it was enough to make the fear fade-if only for a little while.

I sat there for a long time, staring at the blood as it dripped onto the floor, staining the carpet. The cut was deeper than usual, but I didn't care. It didn't matter. Nothing mattered except the quiet that followed. The silence in my head was a welcome change, a reprieve from the storm that had been tearing me apart.

But the calm never lasted.

As the blood slowed, the panic began to creep back in, like a shadow lurking just behind me. I pressed my hand against the cut, trying to stop the bleeding, but my hands were shaking too badly. The ache in my chest returned, deeper than before, and I slumped against the wall, feeling the weight of it all settle over me again.

I didn't move for a long time. The blade was still in my hand, resting against the cut, but I couldn't bring myself to do it again. The release had been temporary, a brief moment of control in a life that felt like it was spiraling out of my grasp.

I pressed my forehead against my knees, closing my eyes, trying to slow my breathing. The panic was still there, lurking beneath the surface, but I was too tired to fight it anymore. Too tired to push it away.