chapter 6
355 Words
The rules of the game are rigged, Jax," Caroline said, her voice steady despite the chill settling in the car. She reached out, her fingers hovering just inches from his white-knuckled grip on the wheel. "You aren't teaching anyone how to survive. You’re just making sure they’re as miserable as you are."
Jax let out a sharp, jagged laugh that didn't reach his eyes. "Survival isn't about being happy, Caroline. It’s about not being the one on the floor. My father doesn't care if I’m a 'good person.' He cares if I’m a winner. If I lose, I don't exist."
He shifted the Bentley into gear, the engine letting out a low, predatory growl that echoed through the quiet street. He didn't look at the colonial house again; he looked straight ahead, eyes fixed on the dark road as if he could outrun the shadow of the man in the second-floor office.
"You think you’re different?" he snapped, the bravado returning like a suit of armor. "You’re sitting there with that notebook, ready to dissect me for your little project at Improving Lives Counseling Services. You’re just another person trying to turn me into a trophy—a 'success story' for your resume."
Caroline pulled her hand back, the sting of his words hitting home. She looked down at the notebook in her lap. For the first time, the leather cover felt cold.
"I'm not looking for a trophy, Jax," she whispered. "I'm looking for the boy who was eight years old and realized he wasn't loved."
Jax didn't answer. He slammed his foot onto the gas, and the car lurched forward, leaving the Highlands and its glowing museums behind. The silence between them was no longer suffocating; it was heavy, filled with the things Jax couldn't say and the things Caroline was beginning to fear.
As they sped toward the edge of town, Caroline realized that the "monster" wasn't just a role he played—it was the only skin he had left. And if she peeled it away, there might be nothing left to save
- Writer
