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“Give it back!” I cried. It was excruciating feeling the tears course from my bruised eye.

“Go to your room,” Dad replied.

“I’m not a child!”

“GO TO YOUR ROOM!”

I bolted upstairs. I locked myself in my room, dug an old T-shirt out of my dresser drawer, and wrapped the icepack in it. I lay down and placed the icepack carefully on my eye, listening for the sounds of the final crescendo, the final push to a frantic, heart-pounding conclusion. Angry chord. Pulsing eye. And then nothing. Nothing but the stillness of my bedroom—the quiet throb of my old heart. It was dying, and I didn’t want to save it. I just lay there and listened to the uneven pounding. I listened as it faded away, like a drum line marching off into the distance. I didn’t know where it was going, and I didn’t want to follow it. That heart held the love I had for my family, and I didn’t love them anymore.

***

A light tapping. I didn’t move.

“Cadence.” I heard Oliver’s muffled voice through the door.

Silence.

“Please, Cadence. I wanna help,” he said so softly that I barely heard him.

I don’t know why I went to the door. I didn’t unlock it for him, though. I just stood with my ear pressed against the door trying to get a better read on the tone in his words.

“Say it again,” I said.

“Huh?”

“What you just said to me. I couldn’t hear you.”

“I said I wanna help,” Oliver replied. He sounded apologetic.

“How?” I asked.

“I can’t say it through the door, Cadence. I don’t want Mom and Dad to hear. Will you please let me in?”

I stood still for a brief second. I wasn’t sure if it was a trick. I opened the door and he slid inside, locking us in.

“I’m the biggest jerk,” he said, wrapping me in a hug. My brother hadn’t hugged me since we were toddlers, and I didn’t remember that. I only knew he did from pictures.

“Get off me,” was my response. Heartless, but then that made sense. Mine had only just drummed off into the distant unknown.

Oliver pulled back. He was crying. I shifted uncomfortably.

“I don’t know why I told them. I thought maybe you were in something really deep and didn’t know how to get out. I didn’t know Dad was gonna hit you, Cadence. I almost went for him. I did, but I was afraid.”

I averted my eyes.

“You couldn’t tell how happy I was?” I demanded.

“Happy? You went through a whole sulking period. How the hell did I know?”

I shrugged.

“Couples fight, Ollie,” I explained in my most condescending voice.

“You told me he broke up with you after your pregnancy scare!” Oliver argued.

“Whatever. Don’t bring that up,” I snapped.

“Cadence, listen to me, okay?”

I stared at the opposite wall.

“Will you freaking look at my face, please?”

I turned to him reluctantly.

“I’m. Sorry. I’m sorry, Cay,” he said. “I didn’t know. I didn’t know you loved him. I didn’t understand. And I don’t know about Dad, Cay, I really don’t. I think he’s gone crazy or something. But I’ll help you. If you wanna leave, I’ll help you.” He grabbed me again and wrapped me in a hug.

This time I hugged him back. And cried into his chest. And told him I was scared.

“Is he good to you, Cay? Because he broke up with you, and I think that’s pretty shitty.”

“He’s good to me, Ollie. I swear. He made a mistake. But he won’t ever do it again. I believe him. I trust him.” I pulled away from my brother and looked at his face. He studied my bruised eye.

“Do you want me to beat up Dad?”

I burst out laughing. “No. Are you crazy?”

“Well, we don’t have to pretend to be the perfect family anymore. I mean, look at your freaking eye. I’ll beat the shit out of him if you want,” Oliver said.

I kept laughing. I couldn’t stop.

“What?” Oliver asked, his mouth turning up in a grin.

“You think you could take Dad?”

“To the floor,” Oliver said, offended.

I shook my head and chuckled. “How about you just help me get the hell out of here?”

“Done.”

I spent the next forty-five minutes packing suitcases. Oliver gave me his, telling me he’d drop by to pick them up later. I didn’t understand what he meant. He couldn’t drive. I drove him everywhere. I knew I couldn’t pack my entire closet and dresser drawers in the bags, but I had to try. I didn’t want to come back to this house. So I worked hard and fast to pack as much as I could, making sure to grab all my favorite clothes and jewelry, my toiletries and make-up. It was haphazard, rushed packing.

Oliver cracked open the bedroom door and peered out. He turned back to me.

“Okay, we can’t roll them,” he said quietly, and I understood.

I hoisted the suitcase off the floor and grunted. The weight was too much, and I dropped it on accident with a loud thud. I cringed. Oliver shut the door immediately.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered.

“It’s okay,” Oliver said. “Listen, I’ll take the bags down the hall. You keep an eye out for Mom and Dad. All right?”

I nodded and spent ten excruciating minutes acting as a lookout while Oliver carried one large suitcase at a time quietly down the hallway to his bedroom. We never discussed what to do or say if Mom or Dad happened to round the corner. I thought absurdly that I should yell, “Fire!” to get Oliver’s attention. I didn’t know. I’d never sneaked out of my house before. And I’d certainly never sneaked out with the intention of never coming back.

Oliver slipped inside the room once more and looked at my bed. Only my purse and an over-the-shoulder bag remained. He picked up the bag and handed me the purse.

“You ready?”

I shook my head. Then I nodded. Then I shook my head again. And then the tears started flowing.

“Cay, you don’t have time to cry. You can’t cry and drive anyway. That’s not safe. Take a deep breath.”

I did as he instructed.

“Look at me.”

I looked at his face.

“You’ll be all right. Mr. Connelly won’t let anything happen to you,” Oliver said.

That statement made me cry harder. Oliver was doing what parents do to placate children. They tell them things with certainty—things they know nothing about—because they’re the adults, and children will naturally believe them.

“You don’t know him, Ollie,” I said.

“But you do. So will he take care of you?” Oliver asked.

I nodded.

“Okay then. Dry your eyes. It’s time to go.”

Oliver helped me sneak out through his bedroom window. It wasn’t easy, or rather, it wasn’t easy for him. He made four trips down the lattice, holding one oversized suitcase at a time. I was terrified the lattice would rip right off the side of the house from all the weight, Oliver and the bag tumbling down with a loud thud that would draw my parents outside to discover us. But it didn’t.

“Cay! Come on!” Oliver whispered from the base of the lattice ladder.

I took one last look at my brother’s room before descending. Once my feet were firmly on the ground, a new realization dawned on me.

“Oliver!” I cried, my stomach sinking. “I can’t just drive away! They’ll hear me.”

I wanted to cry all over again out of frustration and fear.

“Cay, it’s all right. Listen, we’ll put the car in neutral and back it down the street.”

I stamped my foot. “Look at me! You think I can help you push a car?!”

Oliver grabbed my arm. “You’ve gotta try, Cay! Okay? You wanna get out of here? Then you gotta try!”

I nodded and helped Oliver pack the car. He closed the trunk soundlessly then explained our plan to back it out of the driveway. Thank God for the nighttime, cloaking our deceit, because otherwise I would have never made it out. I would have stayed a prisoner forever in my bedroom.

I’ve heard of people doing amazing things under duress, like picking up a car that a child was trapped underneath. I knew it had to do with adrenaline, but I think it had more to do with God. I don’t know why God gave me strength to help Oliver move my getaway car, but I think he did. I think he wanted me out of there, like he knew I was in danger and needed to get somewhere safe. Somewhere like Mark’s house.

I was sweating profusely when we moved the car out of the driveway and down the street.

“Okay. I think that’s good,” Oliver said.

I couldn’t believe my good fortune that Dad didn’t ask for my car keys. Of course, I knew he’d never think for a second that I’d try to run away. Plus, as angry as he was, I couldn’t see him rummaging through my purse. That crossed a line, maybe more so than his striking me.

I burst out laughing.

“What’s so funny?” Oliver asked.

But I couldn’t stop long enough to tell him my ridiculous thought.

“Cadence, get it together,” Oliver said.

“I’m tr-trying!” I choked out, laughing even harder. “L-look at-t my eye!” I pointed to my face and completely lost it.

Oliver just stared at me.

“Get in the car, Cadence,” he ordered.

I giggled. “Yes, sir,” I said, saluting him.

I walked around to the driver’s side and was swept up in another hug. I wasn’t used to Oliver hugging me so much. Hell, I wasn’t used to Oliver hugging me at all. And this one was especially strange because it felt so final. And I didn’t like it.

“Go,” he whispered in my ear.

“Do you wanna come with me?”

He shook his head and squeezed me harder. “No. You go live in sin and report back.”

I laughed. “Okay.”

I looked at Oliver as little as possible as I climbed into the car. And once I started the ignition, I tore down the road for fear that Mom and Dad would recognize the sound of my engine and chase after me. Our goodbyes felt rushed at the end, and I should have said something else to Oliver before I left. I should have told him I loved him. I checked my rearview mirror and glimpsed him standing in the middle of the street, just an obscure black outline against an even blacker sky.

“They know?” Mark asked. He took my hand and led me to the couch.

“Yes. Gracie told them. She saw us at the movies.”

“Cadence, what happened to your eye?”

“I thought she’d leave it alone, but she told them. I came home today and they were all sitting in the living room waiting for me. She—”

“Cadence, what happened to your eye?”

“—had this guilty look on her face. But it was weird. It was guilt mixed with excitement, like she was secretly happy to ruin me. I—”

“Cadence! You’ve gotta stop, okay? You can tell me everything in a minute. But first, what happened to your eye?”

I took a deep breath. “Dad got mad.”

Mark tensed immediately, balling his hands into tight fists.

“Your father hit you?”

I nodded.

“I’ll kill him,” Mark breathed. “I’ll kill him.” He disappeared to his bedroom, and I followed.

“What are you doing?” I asked.

“Changing.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m going to your house, Cadence. To kill your fucking dad.”

My heartbeat sped up. All the emotions that were void just a few minutes ago flooded my heart and mind. I was afraid, and Mark was making it worse.

“Please don’t,” I said. “Mark, please listen to me.”

“Cadence, your father punched you in the eye!”

“I know that!” I cried. “He’s gonna press charges!”

“Oh, is he? Press charges against me?” Mark laughed. “I don’t know how a dead man can press charges.” He pulled on his shoes and left the bedroom. I ran after him and barred the door.

“Don’t!” I screamed.

“Cadence? Move.”

“I won’t! You’re making it worse! Everything is falling apart, and you’re making it worse!”