Olivia hugged herself, eyes flickering with guilt. "A few weeks. After… after mom. I—I just… I wanted to hear him out."
My laugh was sharp and bitter. "Wanted to hear him out? While we were still mourning her. You thought, 'Hm, maybe now's a great time to go visit the man who made her life a living hell.' Is that it? Say something!"
"I didn't tell you because I knew how you'd react!" she said, her voice rising in defense. "I knew you wouldn't understand—"
"Damn right I wouldn't!" I barked, tears burning behind my eyes. "Are you seriously telling me you've been playing happy daughter while I was lying awake every night thinking about every fucking bruise he gave her? Every time she told us to be quiet because he'd be mad? Or how I wanted to fucking kill him before he finally walked out?"
Olivia didn't respond. She just stood there.
Silent. Hesitating.
I felt the crack again. This time, deeper.
I wanted to scream, to break something, anything.
