Greg raised an eyebrow, his hands casually sliding into his pockets. “Care to elaborate, kid?”
That condescending tone made me want to scream.
“I don’t trust you,” I hissed, taking a step forward. My mom grabbed my arm, trying to pull me back, but I dug my heels in. “I don’t trust any of you!”
“Camila, enough!” My mom’s voice cracked like a whip, and I flinched, my grip on my panic loosening just enough for doubt to creep in.
“Sweetheart,” she continued, her tone softening, “you’re not making any sense. What’s going on? Did something happen?”
I opened my mouth, but the words wouldn’t come out. How could I explain what I had just seen upstairs? How could I make her understand that Ethan wasn’t Ethan anymore, that something inside him had shifted into something monstrous?
“
