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Chapter 4

Author: Exploding Chestnuts
The living room stayed quiet for a long time.

Dad sat on the couch without saying a word, cigarette after cigarette burning down between his fingers.

Mom cleared the table in silence.

I stayed crouched in the corner, shaking so hard that I couldn't stop.

"William."

Dad crushed out the last cigarette.

"Did you have fun tonight? Acting like that in front of everyone. How do you think that makes me look?"

Judy spoke up, "Dad, don't…"

"Shut up. I'm talking to him."

He walked over and stood in front of me, looking down.

"Answer me. Do you hate me?"

"No, I don't… I wouldn't dare." I shook my head quickly.

"If you don't, then what was that? Everything I've done was for this family, and you come back and make a scene the first night?"

"I didn't… I didn't mean to…"

"Someone offers you a drink, and you start yelling? Then you're on the floor, making a spectacle in front of everyone? What was that about? Do you have any idea your Uncle Ronan walked out and texted everyone that my son's lost his mind?"

He bent down and jabbed a finger against my forehead.

"Who do you think you are? Are you trying to tear this family apart?"

Mom set the last plate down and crouched beside me.

"William, your dad has a temper, but he's not wrong. He's doing this for your own good. You're not a kid anymore. You need to try to understand him."

Her hand moved gently through my hair.

"You have no idea how much he worried about you these past three years. He called the center every month and watched every video they sent. Every time, he'd say that you're doing fine, you've put on weight, or you're calmer now."

There was even comfort in her voice.

"You have to see it from his side. He's had it harder than anyone. He just doesn't say it."

He had it harder than anyone?

He watched those videos of me quietly writing in my book, and told himself everything was fine.

He never saw what was outside the frame: the instructor holding a whip, the lighting set just right, the staged background.

All of it was fake.

Then again, maybe he didn't want to see it.

"Fine. Looks like you still don't get it."

Dad walked to the end of the hall and opened a door.

"Get in there. Cool off. If you don't figure it out by tomorrow, I'll send you back."

My legs locked at the doorway.

It looked exactly like that isolation room.

"No… Please don't…"

"Get in."

"Please don't lock me in… Please don't put me back in there…"

"Lock you in? What are you talking about? You just need time to think. I did the same thing with your sister when she acted up. Now go!"

"No…"

"Dad, you can't…!" Judy rushed over.

"You want to start, too? None of you ever make things easy for me!"

He shoved Judy aside with one hand and pushed me forward with the other.

"Dad…"

I stumbled inside, my shoulder hitting a stack of boxes.

The door slammed shut behind me, and the lock clicked.

Darkness swallowed everything.

"No… Don't lock it!"

Everything fell away. All that was left were flashes of fear.

The whip with barbs. The clamps biting into skin. Men laughing as they closed in, hands already at their belts.

From the living room, I could faintly hear Dad's voice.

"Let him calm down. He'll stop in a minute."

Then, I heard Judy.

"Dad, open the door! He can't stay in there!"

"I know how to handle my own son. Go to your room!"

The voices faded. Right then, I knew that one was coming.

In the dark, Vincent's voice came back.

"Still not listening? Then you stay in until you do."

And the others.

"Runt. Runt. You enjoying this?"

My back hit the wall.

My foot bumped into something.

A wire.

This house wasn't the same as that place. Back there, I had tried to die more times than I could count, but it never worked.

I always held onto one thought: I would go home. I would go back to Dad and Mom, and everything would be okay.

Now, I was back.

And yet, Dad had locked me in another dark room.

Nothing had changed.

Except now, I had a choice.

Mom said Dad loved me. Maybe I was too stupid to understand that kind of love.

I looped the wire over a hanger and pulled it tight around my neck. My feet left the ground. For a moment, I struggled on instinct.

And then, I went still.

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