Page 27 of Liam

Griffin sighed, long and loud. “Did I push you?” he asked, and I turned to him, confused. “With the whole softball thing. I don’t want you?—”

“You didn’t push me,” I cut in.

He nodded, looking out at the field. “It’s just… ever since we started, it’s as if…” he trailed off.

“As if what?”

“As if you’ve been on this pursuit of perfection.” He paused a beat. “You’re always putting in a hundred and ten percent with the game, and you’re the model student with perfect grades. You’re home every night, helping us take care of the younger kids when we have them, and I just… I worry, I guess.”

I faced him again, unable to hide my emotions. “You worry because I’mgood?”

“I worry that you feel youhaveto be. And you’re not justgood, Addie. You’re exceptional.” He turned to me, his eyes right on mine. “But… sometimes, I think you feel pressured to be that way. Like, you came into our home, and you feel as if you have to earn your place. Not just in our home, but in our hearts.”

A knot formed in my throat, making it hard to breathe, all while tears clung to my lashes. He was describing exactly how I felt from the moment they opened their doors to me, and it’s only worsened with each passing day. I didn’t feel worthy of their time, let alone their love. Especially after… “I messed up, Griffin.”

He nodded, as if he was expecting my response. “The car accident was exactly that. Anaccident.”

“The car accident itself? Sure. It’s what I let happen after?—”

“Addie,” he cut in, shaking his head. “You can’t be perfect all the time. No one can. Besides…” He held me to him—an act so rare it only emphasized its meaning.“The pursuit ofperfection includes redemption… and redemption is realizing you’re imperfect.”

11

Addie

It’s almost 3 a.m. and I haven’t slept. I’ve spent the entire night tossing and turning, trying to rid the guilt and anguish from my heart.

My soul.

I’ve been thinking about Griffin’s words a lot, never more so than now, and so the absolute last thing I should be doing is picking up my phone and unlocking it. The screen is exactly how I left it only seconds ago. Exactly how it’s been for hours now. I’m fully aware that hitting play will only torture me more.

I do it anyway.

The entire recording is less than five minutes long, all shot from Lincoln’s point of view, and opens with a version of Liam I’m unfamiliar with. According to the date of the upload, they would’ve been fifteen at the time. Liam’s sitting on the couch of what I assume is their living room, and Lincoln zooms in on Liam’s bouncing knee, then closer again on his hands, his fingers tapping away on his leg.

The next clip is Liam outside, sitting in the grass while staring off into the distance, disassociating from reality. His breaths are short, sharp, as if he can never truly fill his lungs.

Then it cuts to him pacing—three steps one way, three steps back. These brief clips go on for a few minutes, all of Liam. Lincoln never speaks, never gives commentary to what’s being shown. Not until the last minute.

The room is black, bar the light from Liam’s phone as he lies in bed, his thumb swiping the screen.

“What does it feel like to be you?” Lincoln asks him.

Liam cracks, “Exactly the same as you.”

“But it’s not, is it?” Lincoln retorts, his tone solemn, serious.

Liam sighs, then switches off his phone, coating the room in complete darkness. It only lasts a few seconds before Lincoln turns on the flash. Liam rolls to his side, facing his twin brother. His nose scrunches, eyes squinted from the bright light aimed directly at him.

“So?” Lincoln urges.

“Sowhat?”

“What does it feel like to be you?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean… living inside your head. The constant anxiety and dread and panic attacks.”

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