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They’re blaming me.

My mother’s face fills the screen next.

“I’m sick to death,” she says. Her eyes shimmer with tears, to match her sob. “I can’t believe he’s gone.”

Then the camera cuts to my father. He looks grief stricken. Almost human.

“Our daughter has always been sensitive,” he says. “Asher was only trying to help her.” Hearing emotion in his voice is so foreign to me, it barely sounds like him at all. “As governor, I want to fight for the sanctity of families. Better mental health resources. Better support systems so no one else has to suffer the way we have.”

Then the afterthought. “We just want our daughter to come home.”

A picture of me pops up on the screen. My senior portrait. The girl who smiled easier before she was held captive by the people pretending to mourn her.

Only their tears for Asher feel honest.

They aren’t looking for me. They’re rewriting me.

I look at Evelyn and Frank, but words refuse to form. My mouth feels full of stones.

Frank switches off the TV when the segment moves on. The silence that follows carries enough weight to crush me.

“Your story has spread across the state,” Evelyn says softly. “But they don’t have the whole story, do they?”

My lips part, but nothing comes out. They put me on the news to drag me home. To shut the door again. To lock me back where they can control me.

“Your parents miss you,” she adds.

The truth claws up my throat but dies there. I want to tell them how my parents kept me hidden like a secret they hated. How I wasn’t a daughter so much as a possession. That they only remember I exist when I’m useful.

But I can’t force the words out.

“We could take you home,” Frank says gently. “Before things get more complicated.”

I snap my head towards him. “Please don’t make me go back.” My voice breaks on the last word. “I like it here with you.”

Evelyn’s face softens. I throw my arms around her and breathe in the warm vanilla scent clinging to her skin. It doesn’t matter that it’s wrong. I let myself imagine she’s my real mother.

“Oh, sweetheart,” she murmurs. “You can stay here as long as you’d like. No one has to know your secret. This town is good at keeping them.”

That doesn’t comfort me, and I hold on tighter than I mean to. She smooths her hand over my hair, all the way down my back. The ache in my chest eases a little.

Frank nods from his chair, his expression solemn with concern. “If that’s your decision, I support it. You’ve been through enough already. You’ll be safe here with us.”

They seem so calm. So certain. As though the answer to my entire life might really be this simple. Staying in their guest room. Following their rules. Letting them gently fold me into their family as if I belong there.

Maybe that’s what frightens me. How easy it would be to let someone else decide everything again, so long as they did it with love.

“We just don’t want you getting mixed up with the wrong people in this town,” Frank adds.

He looks at Evelyn, waiting for her to continue.

“What people?” I ask.

“You’ve seen The Cirrus Hotel?” Evelyn asks.

“The big tower?”

“Yes.” Her mouth tightens. “The people who spend time there are deviants. They prey on innocent girls like you.”