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“Sorry, I’m sorry,” she whispered.
“You have nothing to be sorry for,” Xavier told her. He chose his next words carefully. “I know you were bullied before you came to Wishingbone.”
She nodded. “I was.”
“Why did no one do anything?” Brick demanded.
“Hard to do something when they didn’t know.”
Xavier kissed the top of her head and Brick grabbed onto her hand.
“When I was nearly eleven, my parents were killed. It was a home invasion gone wrong. I woke up to yelling. I ran out of my bedroom just as shots were fired. There was just this . . . this silence after those shots. I remember that silence so well. I don’t know how long I stood there, but by the time I finally moved, whoever had shot them was gone.”
She took in a shuddering breath.
“They were lying on the floor of the living room. My mom was wearing these flannel pajamas she loved. They had cows on them. I tried to wake her up. But she wouldn’t wake and there was blood pooling under her body. My daddy, he was close to her, his arm was reaching out towards her.”
She rubbed at her eyes.
“Apparently, I must have started screaming. I yelled until I was hoarse. We didn’t have close neighbors, and I don’t really remember what happened next. But our neighbors found me walking down the road, dressed in my pajamas, covered in blood.”
“Oh, baby girl,” Brick murmured. He knelt on the floor in front of them.
Xavier knew about how Reuben’s father had died, he knew she’d found them, but she’d never spoken about it, and Reuben hadn’t given him details.
“Did they find who did it?” Brick asked.
“No, they never did.”
“Where was Reuben?” Brick asked.
“Reuben’s actually my half-brother,” she murmured. “Same dad. There’re four years between us. He lived with his mom and came to visit sometimes during the holidays. His mom hated our dad. I think she thought he had an affair with my mom and that’s why he left her. My mom was an only child and I didn’t have anyone but Reuben. And his mom wouldn’t take me because she hated me.”
“Fuck,” Brick muttered.
“That nearly killed Reuben,” Xavier said. He looked at Brick. “Reuben’s grandparents lived here. Whenever his mom found a new boyfriend, he’d get shipped here to live with them. Then when she got dumped, she’d take him back to Boston to live with her.”
“Reuben wanted his grandparents to take me,” she added. “But his granddad had dementia, and his grandma didn’t have the time to take on a traumatized eleven-year-old who wouldn’t talk. Well, the doctors said I damaged my vocal cords, but I’m not sure I would have talked anyway.”
“What happened?” Brick asked.
“I went into foster care.”
“Reuben played a game of football that weekend,” Xavier said. “He was so vicious they benched him for the rest of the season. To say he didn’t take it well was putting it mildly. He wanted to take you. He would have raised you himself. Except his mother wouldn’t let him move full time to Wishingbone, and his grandma could barely cope with looking after his grandpa.”
“I know,” she whispered. “He called me every night. He swore he’d get me out of the system when he could. Told me not to give up. He was the only thing that kept me going.” She let out a deep breath. “You know how you hear those bad stories about foster parents?”
“Yes,” Brick said carefully.
“Well, I didn’t have that experience. My foster parents, they were amazing. They were kind and understanding. Supportive. I couldn’t have asked for better foster parents. For the first nine months I was with them, I didn’t go to school. My foster mom taught me at home. They decided to start me in a new school year. I had just begun speaking again, but my voice was this weird, broken thing. It didn’t sound like me. So, I didn’t like to talk much. When I went back to school, well, it wasn’t good. Not awful, but not great. I didn’t have any friends. I was the weird kid with the broken voice who barely spoke, but I managed. Until freshman year, that’s when it all went to hell.
“I was younger than the other kids, which didn’t help. Still, the first couple of months were okay. I kept my head down, trying not to bring any attention to myself. But one day, I accidentally bumped into one of the star football players. I went flying backward. I thought he’d ignore me or blame me or something. But he was really nice. Helped me up. Smiled at me.”
She let out a bark of humorless laughter. “Little did I know that would send me spiraling into hell. His girlfriend took exception to him helping me. But instead of taking it up with him, she started picking on me. She was part of the cool group. And her friends all backed her up. They made my life hell.
“It was brutal. The things they said and did. I withdrew even more. I stopped eating. I went back to not talking at all. I wore long clothing all the time, in black. I just wanted to disappear, to fade away. They found out what happened to my parents, and they told everyone that I killed them. They said I was a slut who was after everyone’s boyfriend. They called me a freak, ugly. It just went on and on and on until I didn’t want to be there anymore. I didn’t want to be anywhere.”
“I’ll kill them all,” Brick said in a low, harsh voice.
