The memory of it all still pains me. Just thinking about it fills me with dread, but explaining it out loud to Beck who sat next to me at the edge of the cliff listening without interrupting, it filled me with shame.
Shame that Beck now knows who I truly was. Shame that Anderson made me a murderer for wanting to protect him without knowing I was being deceived. That I was lied to for months by the very man who orchestrated my parents' death.
I shouldn't have been so fuckin' naïve to believe every thing Anderson told me about my father and their false relationship of camaraderie. The pieces were there, I was just so caught up in my grief and sadness not to have thought something was wrong.
I hadn't realized that I was crying until I felt Beck swiping his thumb ever so lightly across my c
