Her grip didn’t loosen right away.
Evelyn’s fingers stayed locked around my wrist, cold and trembling, like she was trying to anchor herself to something real before it slipped away again. I didn’t pull back. I couldn’t. Not after what she said.
Your father screamed.
The words didn’t echo. They didn’t need to. They settled, heavy and permanent.
Something inside my chest tightened around them, like my body was trying to contain the impact before it spread any further. It didn’t work. The meaning leaked through anyway, slow and unbearable.
“When?” I asked.
My voice didn’t sound like mine. Like if I spoke too loudly, whatever truth was forming would harden into something I couldn’t survive.
Evelyn blinked, slow and delayed. The clarity in her eyes was already fading, slipping backward
