ELLIOT Silence befell us. It was thick, heavy. Crushing. “I never told my mum,” he said. “Why?” “Because what kind of person does that make me?” he asked, his voice breaking slightly for the first time. “What kind of person sits there and watches their father die?” My chest twisted painfully. “Asher—” “I could’ve saved him,” he said. “Maybe. I don’t know. But I didn’t try. Not immediately. And that—” he let out a shaky breath “—that makes me just as bad as him.” “No,” I said immediately. He shook his head. “Yes, it does.” “No, it doesn’t,” I repeated, firmer this time. He went quiet. But he didn’t look like he believed me. I stood up and approached him slowly. “You were fifteen,” I said. He didn’t respond. “You were a kid,” I continued. “A kid who was abused for years. A kid who watched his mum be abused for years.” His jaw tightened. “That doesn’t just… disappear,” I said. “You don’t just suddenly become rational in a moment like that.” “I still sh
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