Page 187 of Sins of the Hidden

"That will never change, my sweet girl." Throwing my arms around her after letting her hands go, I nuzzled into the warmth of my mom. Both crying now as we embraced. "I might not have given birth to you but you are my daughter, Oakley."

Blood ran through your veins whether you wanted it or not. Family was who you'd spill it for.

After V shared his pain, he'd encouraged me to share mine. Telling him had been easy; telling my parents would be hard. After that night in the woods, I became a different person, my quick witty sense of humor fizzled away, and after Anne died, I became a shell. After all those years of worrying, they deserved the truth. After watching V be so brave in telling me, I knew I could do this.

I pulled back from Mom's embrace and returned to the couch, settling beside Dad again. I set Valerie's journal gently on the coffee table, needing both hands free for what I was about to say. I drew a deep breath, sitting up straighter on the couch.

"V helped me come back here." My dad's gaze went to V, followed by my mom's. "He told me something about his past that wasn't easy. Something that someone should never have gone through. He taught me that what happens to people sometimes isn't their fault, even if they believe it is."

I looked at my husband, standing silently in the corner, the mask covering the lower half of his face.

I realized then that this was why we found each other, why we understood each other in ways no one else could. Both survivors of different kinds of abuse, both carrying aftermath—his on his body, mine in my mind.

The cult that had witnessed my birth had also created his torment. Different times, different people, same evil. His mother's ring—now my wedding band—caught the light on my finger, a symbol taken from the past and transformed into something different. Something ours.

"We're both survivors," I whispered, more to myself than anyone else. V's eyes met mine across the room, and I saw understanding there, a silent acknowledgment of our shared resilience.

Turning back to my dad, I shifted to the edge of the couch, leaning forward with my elbows on my knees. I let the words out while I still had the nerve.

"Karson..." His name tasted like poison on my tongue. "He took me and Anne to a pig party a few weeks before she committed suicide."

Dad's face transformed into something murderous. Mom's expression crumpled in confusion. "A pig party?"

"It's a party where boys find women who they think are objectively unattractive and bring them as a date to embarrass them." Dad slammed his hands down on the coffee table, shattering the glass. Shards scattered across the floor like the pieces of my shattered dignity that night. Mom flinched backward as V watched, eerily still, his eyes fixed on Dad, calculating the threat level.

Mom rushed to Dad, hands pressing against his chest as he rose, veins pulsing at his temples. "Trevor, please calm down."

"Calm down?" His voice was terrifyingly quiet. "Did you not just hear what the fuck she said? What that bastard did to our daughter?" He shoved away from Mom, pacing like a caged animal.

"I did hear her, but I don't think this is the right way to go about this," Mom pleaded, tears streaming down her face. "Listen to what she's trying to tell us, Trevor." Dad's hands slid down his face, leaving trails in the tears I hadn't noticed were falling.

His eyes found mine, devastated and raw. "What did they do to you, Oakley?"

The question hung between us like a guillotine. I collapsed inward, sobs tearing through me with such violence I couldn't breathe. V crossed the room, not touching me but positioning himself close enough that I could feel his heat against my back. I buried my face in my hands, shoulders convulsing as I tried to disappear inside myself.

I wouldn't tell them. I'd let them guess. I refused to tell them about the rape.

Dad made a sound like he'd been gutted. Mom's hands flew to her mouth, horror washing over her face.

"After Anne, when you stopped talking, stopped eating, I was terrified every time you left the house that you wouldn't come back." Dad confessed, his voice breaking. He knelt in front ofme, taking my cold hands in his warm ones. "I was terrified you were going to do what Anne did."

Anne's laugh echoed through me—not the cruel one from that night, but the genuine one from before, when we'd stay up late whispering secrets under blanket forts. I couldn't remember that sound anymore. Only how it ended: with a rope and a note that said simply "I'm sorry I was the winner."

"I was."

A sob tore from Mom's throat as she covered her mouth, shoulders shaking violently. Dad's face contorted with grief he couldn't contain.

"I had pills," I continued, unable to stop now that the dam had broken. "I stole them from different medicine cabinets so no one would notice. I kept them in a mint tin. I wrote the note." My hands shook uncontrollably. "I had everything ready."

Dad's breath hitched. Mom moved to kneel beside him, reaching for me but afraid to touch me, as if I might shatter completely.

"But then I went to Anne's funeral," my voice cracked, splintering on her name. "And I saw her parents. They looked like their world ended. And I thought about what it would do to you both, finding me like that. I couldn't... I couldn't do that to you."

"Oh, baby girl." Dad's voice shattered completely as he pulled me against his chest. Mom wrapped her arms around us both, her tears soaking into my hair. Their embrace formed a cocoon of warmth I hadn't allowed myself to feel in years. I closed my eyes, breathing in the familiar scent of my mother's perfume, my father's aftershave—they smelled like comfort, like home.

I felt V's eyes on my back. Always watching, always apart. His stillness was a comfort in its own way. In a world that had never stopped spinning violently around me since that night in thewoods, V was the only thing that remained steady. Untouchable to everyone but me.

As my parents held me, years of unshed tears finally broke free. For Anne. For the girl I used to be. For my biological mother who died so I could live. For my father who carried the weight of so much trauma yet still found a way to love me completely.

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