Page 122 of The Road Less Traveled By

“Up here!” Tristan yells from upstairs.

“Bree, don’t come up here!” Vince yells back.

I rush up, trying not to look at any of the pictures surrounding me, but when I get into my room, my once safe space, my sanctuary, Ifreeze.

Because all I can see taped up around my room are pictures of me from the worst night of my life. The night Ralph took everything from me. The night that haunts me every moment of every day.

He took pictures?I don't remember a camera, but maybe it’s something I blocked out. In some, tears are streaming down my face. In others I’m simply laying against my bed with a fearful look in my eyes.

I can’t breathe. Images of that night are rushing back into my head, flooding my memories with things I’ve tried to heal from. Ralph has set me back months in recovery because of these reminders, and my legs turn to jelly before I sink to the floor.

But Vince, Liv, and Tristan catch me before I drown.

“I-I can’t do this anymore.”

There will never be a time I’ll be able to forget that night, and thanks to Ralph—who took pictures of me crying, of me begging him to leave me alone, of me frozen on the ground—these pictures will always be somewhere. They could eventually get onto the internet, and people will not only know what happened to me, but they’ll be able to see the evidence of it.

I was only twenty years old in these pictures. Twenty. I was practically a kid when my safety was taken away from me, when my sanity was ripped out from underneath me.

I was only twenty when my life was taken out of my own hands.

Even though I’m a few years older, the pain still hurts. The memories cut into my head like knives, and I miss who I used to be before. I was so naive to think I had any control over my own life back then, and I was an idiot to think that just because Ralph was in prison, he could never hurt me again.

Every memory haunts me while I sleep, and even though the pain might get better over time, it will never leave me. How could it? How could I simply forget about the worst night of my life?

That’s the one thing I hate about my mind: I can’t remember the good days I had as a kid, and pieces of my life are so blurry that I don't know if they’re real or if I made them up.

But the worst night of my life will stay with me forever. I can remember the temperature outside that day, everything leading up to that night burned into my memory. I remember exactly what pajamas I was wearing, exactly what book I was reading that I can no longer look at on my shelf. It was merely sitting on my bed as I doodled on my iPad, but I still can’t look at it.

I’m falling. I’m falling so hard into my mind that I might not come out after this.

I feel safe here in my head. Please don't make me come back out. I’ll get hurt. Or worse, I’ll get killed by my stalker, and he’ll win. He’ll win this sick game he’s playing with me. Please don’t let him win. Please don't have my sister watch as I get lowered into the ground if he succeeds.

I can’t do that to her because then she’ll be alone. She’ll be the only Hart sister to exist if that happened, and I don't know if Tristan could save her.

“Angel, look at me,” Vince says, his hands around my face as tears fall. I move my blurry gaze to his, and his thumbs caress my cheeks. “Focus on me, okay? You’re strong. I’m going to find him, and I’m going to fucking kill him for what he’s doing to you.”

“Vince, I-I can’t do this anymore. Please just let me drown.”

“Not a chance, baby. You’ve got all of us around you, and none of us are letting you sink. Let us carry you, Bree. Let us help.” Vince is begging me, his voice strained as he tries to help.

“You’ll get hurt. Everybody around me always gets hurt,” I say through my sobs.

“We’re all willing to take that chance, Bree. You’re not doing any of this alone anymore,” Vince tells me, and I hear Tristan and Liv agreebehind me.

“We’ll take care of each other, Bree, just like we always have,” my sister says as she kneels next to me on the floor. “You just have to let us.”

They’re sitting at the table with me.“Okay,” I whisper.

“Ralph might’ve taken a lot from you, but he’ll never take us away, Bree. We’re fucking here for you, no matter what,” Tristan says.

You can’t promise that,I think to myself. Ralph has escalated, and I’m scared to think about what else he’s capable of. He has people helping him, which makes him even more dangerous.

“Let’s go downstairs. Nico’s taking pictures of everything, and he got this room already,” Tristan says, motioning us out of my room.

“One second,” I say. Before I leave my room, I stand in front of my bookshelves lined with pictures from the worst night of my life, and I rip every single one to the ground. “Okay, I’m ready.”

Chapter thirty-seven

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