One evening, after a particularly bad fight with Dad, I sat in my room, shaking, my breath coming in short, shallow gasps. His words still echoed in my head, sharp and biting.

"You think you can hide from me? You’re worthless. Don’t forget that."

I could still feel the sting of his slap, the way his hand had connected with my cheek, leaving behind a dull, throbbing pain that radiated down to my jaw. It wasn’t the first time, and I knew it wouldn’t be the last.

I glanced at the mirror, my face swollen and red, my eyes bloodshot from crying. The reflection staring back at me didn’t look like me anymore. It was someone else—a hollow version of myself, one who had learned to live in the shadows, to exist in silence.

My phone buzzed on the bed beside me. Adrian.

Where are you? You haven’t answered my texts.

My fingers hovered over the screen, my heart racing. I didn’t have the energy to answer him. Not tonight. Not after what had just happened. But I knew better than to ignore him for too long. He wouldn’t stop. He never did.

At home. Just tired.

It was always the same response. Always the same lie.

A few moments later, another buzz.

You sound off. What’s going on?

I swallowed hard, my eyes stinging with fresh tears. I could tell him. I could let it spill out, tell him about Dad, about everything that had happened. Maybe he would understand. Maybe he would help.

But as the thought crossed my mind, I pushed it away. No one could know. Not even him.

I’m fine. Just a long day.

Another lie.

---

The next day at school, Adrian was waiting for me by my locker. I saw him before he saw me, his face set in that easy, relaxed smile he always wore. But as I got closer, I could see something different in his eyes—something sharper, more intense.

“Hey,” he said, stepping in front of me, blocking my path. “You didn’t answer me last night.”

I forced a small smile, adjusting the strap of my bag over my shoulder. “Sorry. I was just tired.”

“You’ve been saying that a lot lately.” His voice was soft, but there was an edge to it that made me nervous.

I shifted my weight, trying to avoid his gaze. “I’ve just had a lot going on. That’s all.”

Adrian’s eyes narrowed slightly, his hand reaching out to brush a strand of hair away from my face. His touch was gentle, but it sent a chill down my spine. “You know you can tell me anything, right? I care about you.”

“I know,” I mumbled, stepping back slightly. “I’m fine.”

But I wasn’t fine. And I knew he could sense it.

Adrian studied me for a moment longer, his gaze lingering on my face, and I knew he wasn’t satisfied with my answer. But after a long pause, he let out a sigh and stepped aside, allowing me to pass.

“I’ll talk to you later,” he said quietly, his voice carrying a weight that felt heavier than it should have.

---

That night, Dad was home early. From my room, I could hear the sounds of conversation and laughter drifting up the stairs. Elijah, Lorenzo, Ethan, and Maxim were all in the kitchen with him. The four of them had been around more lately, ever since Elijah and Lorenzo moved back home temporarily while saving up for their next place. Maxim was busy with college, and Ethan still had a carefree attitude, more focused on school and friends than anything happening at home.

For them, dinner was just another regular night. For me, it was a minefield.

I stood at the top of the stairs for a long moment, listening to the warmth of their laughter, but my stomach tightened with dread. Dad’s kindness toward them always felt like an act, but they didn’t see it. He played the role of the perfect father effortlessly when they were around. In front of them, he was sweet, attentive, someone they could lean on. But when they weren’t looking—when it was just the two of us—that mask slipped.

Taking a deep breath, I forced myself to walk downstairs and into the kitchen.

“There she is!” Dad said, his voice filled with false warmth as soon as I stepped into the room. He was standing at the stove, stirring a pot, that easy smile plastered on his face. “Just in time for dinner.”

I nodded, sliding into a chair at the table. Ethan and Maxim were already seated, deep in conversation with Elijah and Lorenzo. They were laughing about something that had happened earlier in the day, completely oblivious to the tension that knotted my stomach tighter with every passing second.

Dad served the plates, placing one in front of me with a gentle pat on my shoulder. “You need to eat, sweetheart,” he said, his voice soft, affectionate—at least to anyone listening. But I could feel the weight behind his touch, the way his fingers pressed into my skin just a little too hard. “You’ve barely been eating lately.”

I swallowed hard, my eyes glued to my plate. “Thanks.”

Dinner went on as usual—Elijah and Lorenzo discussing their work schedules, Maxim talking about something that happened at school, and Ethan chiming in with stories from college. They had no idea what was happening beneath the surface. To them, this was just a normal family dinner, with Dad listening and smiling like the supportive father they believed him to be.

Occasionally, Dad would pass me something or touch my arm as he moved around the kitchen, his gestures perfectly timed to appear fatherly, caring. But each touch lingered just a second too long, a silent reminder of the control he held over me when the others weren’t looking.

“You guys saving up for a trip?” Ethan asked, looking between Elijah and Lorenzo.

“Yeah,” Lorenzo nodded, smiling. “We’re thinking of getting out for a bit, maybe a road trip. You know, before we move.”

“Sounds like fun,” Elijah said, chuckling. “I can’t wait to get back out there.”

I forced a smile, nodding along as they spoke, but my mind was miles away. I could feel Dad’s eyes on me even when I wasn’t looking at him. His words from earlier echoed in my head—soft, caring words that held an edge only I could hear.

As dinner wound down, Dad leaned back in his chair, still wearing that practiced, warm smile. “Elijah, Lorenzo, why don’t you two take the trash out? Ethan, can you help Maxim clean up the plates?”

“Sure thing,” Elijah said, standing up and grabbing the trash bags with Lorenzo. Ethan and Maxim gathered the dishes, their conversation light and easy as they moved around the kitchen.

The second they stepped out of the room, the air shifted.

Dad’s smile vanished, replaced by something colder, sharper. He turned toward me, his eyes darkening as he took a step closer.

“So quiet tonight,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, but filled with a quiet menace. “What’s your problem?”

My breath caught in my throat as I stared down at the table, my heart pounding in my chest. “I-I don’t have a problem,” I whispered, trying to keep my voice steady.

“Look at me when I’m talking to you,” he snapped, his voice low and controlled. I could feel his hand gripping the back of my chair, his fingers tightening just enough to make my pulse race.

I raised my eyes slowly, meeting his gaze. His expression was cold, his eyes hard as they bored into mine.

“You think you can sit here and act like you’re better than the rest of us?” he growled, his voice barely audible over the sound of the door swinging open behind us.

Elijah and Lorenzo walked back in, laughing about something that had happened outside. Ethan and Maxim were still at the sink, oblivious to the tension in the room.

In an instant, Dad’s expression shifted. His smile returned, warm and easy, as he let go of the chair and turned toward my brothers.

“How about some dessert?” he asked, his voice light again, like nothing had happened.

“Yeah!” Maxim grinned, walking over from the sink. “Ice cream sounds great.”

Dad glanced at me, his smile still in place, but his eyes held a warning. “Why don’t you help me with that?” he said, his voice soft but carrying that unspoken threat.

I nodded quickly, standing up and heading to the freezer to get the ice cream. From the outside, everything seemed perfectly normal—just a family having dinner, joking and laughing. But under the surface, I could still feel Dad’s grip on me, still hear the warning in his voice.

I handed out the bowls of ice cream, avoiding his gaze, hoping my brothers wouldn’t notice how shaky my hands were. They were too busy talking, too wrapped up in their own worlds to see the cracks that were growing wider around me.

---

Later that night, I lay in bed, staring up at the ceiling, my body still tense from the dinner that felt like it had lasted forever. My phone buzzed on the nightstand, and I reached for it, already expecting another message from Adrian.

You haven’t been answering me. What’s going on?

I stared at the screen, my chest tightening. I could still feel the ghost of Dad’s fingers gripping the chair, the sharpness in his voice. I should have told Adrian. I should have let it all spill out—told him what was really happening. But I couldn’t. I couldn’t tell anyone.

Nothing. I’m just tired.

I hit send, my fingers trembling as I set the phone back down beside me. I knew Adrian wouldn’t stop. His messages had been coming more frequently, his questions becoming more invasive.

A few moments later, the phone buzzed again.

You don’t have to hide things from me. You know that, right?

I bit my lip, my mind racing. He cared. I knew that. He was the only one who noticed. The only one who cared. But lately, his concern had begun to feel more like control. I could feel him slipping into every part of my life, just like Dad—always watching, always waiting for me to answer. His presence was constant, and the more it lingered, the more suffocating it became.

I’m fine. Really.

I set the phone down again, rolling over and pulling the blanket tighter around myself, as if it could shield me from the things closing in on me—from Adrian’s constant messages, from Dad’s quiet threats, from the darkness that seemed to be swallowing me whole.

But deep down, I knew it wouldn’t.