Page 126 of Pretty Little Threats

I have no idea what she’s thinking. No idea if she thinks I’m as terrible as my father, or if part of her can’t stand the thought of being associated with the daughter of the man who ruined her dad’s life.

Hurt lances through me, and I swallow the bitter taste on my tongue. “I understand.”

Cassia chews on her lip and nods at Orion before fleeing. I watch her go, hollowness burrowing deeper into my heart.

Did I just lose my best friend?

“There’s more,” Orion says.

Turning to him, I shake my head. “What could be worse than that?”

“Look at the date on the dissolution paperwork.” He shows me the document again.

Leaning in, I scan the screen, breath catching. “That’s a week before my mom died.”

Orion runs his hand over stubble, searching my face. “Do you remember anything about that time?”

The minty scent of the tea tingles in my nostrils as I take a sip. Truth be told, I haven’t thought about the days leading up to Mom’s death in a long time. It’s all been buried in the back of my mind, that grief untouched, for the most part. What do I remember? Oxygen trembles in my lungs as I probe my memories, purposefully rooting around in moments I’ve tried to forget. The funeral was on a stormy Saturday. The rain fell as hard as my tears. There were so many people, but that was the first day I really felt alone because Dad wouldn’t talk to me.

He was silent as a stone, and I remember thinking it was weird because...he’d been yelling so much.

Exhaling, I set my mug down. “They were fighting.” Throat tight as a fist, my voice comes out hoarse. “I don’t remember what about, but there was a lot of screaming.”

Admitting the words out loud sends me back to the night Mom went out on her walk. She tucked me into bed and put me to sleep, but I woke up when something heavy crashed to the floor.

“Mama!” I scream, bolting up in bed, terrified of that sound.

“Great. You woke Rosalynn,” Mommy snaps.

“You have no idea what you’ve done!” Daddy’s shout carries up to my room, and I sink back into my pillows, covering my face with my blanket to hide my trembling lips. “Don’t walk away from me.”

Someone stomps up the stairs, and every loud boom matches the pounding of my heart.

“I’m going to put her back to bed.”

“Vittoria,” Daddy hisses right as my bedroom door opens.

I squeak and cover my whole head. Daddy’s face is all twisted up like an angry monster’s.

“You’re scaring her,” Mommy says. “Let me put her to bed, and then we can talk.”

Daddy growls. “You always pick her over me.”

“And what would you have me do, Joseph? Leave her screaming for help?”

“She’s weak.”

“She’s a child.” Mommy sighs and my mattress dips. “Hey, sweet girl,” she coos, turning on the bedside lamp.

I lower one side of the blanket and peek out, but Daddy is still there, wearing that scary face. I’ve never seen him so mad.

He glares at Mommy’s back. “If you think we’re done discussing this?—”

“Once you’re calm, we can talk.” Mommy smooths my hair. “Did you have a bad dream?”

My gaze moves between her and Daddy. “Are you fighting again because of me? I’m sorry I didn’t eat my broccoli.”

Mommy’s face crumples. “Oh, baby. No. It’s never about you.”

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