"It's you and me. Together," he says. "Us against the world."
*****
All my life, I've never trusted men. The image of them planted in my head is the figure of my abusive stepfather who has made my mother and I live in hell.
But then, an encounter w...
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I'm back at home, with cops guarding us, while the rest of them are out after Tuck and looking for Lais' body.
When I first step into the house again, Mom hugs me and cries. Dad stares at me with a devastated look before pushing his forehead against the wall, closing his eyes.
We can't deny the reality that we didn't manage to save Lais.
I don't know what else is happening and how long I've been standing here, leaning my back against the wall, staring at the chaos around me with an empty look.
I can't feel anything. I can't hear anything.
I don't even know what I'm doing.
All I know is that Lais is gone. She died, and so does my heart.
I miss her, but she isn't in this world anymore.
Her letter is inside my pants pocket, but I can't look at it anymore. It only reminds me that all of this is real. It only reminds me of her last goodbye, one that I don't want to accept.
The next thing I know is that Vaughn and Dad are having a heated conversation with a cop in the living room, talking about the latest updates. Mom listens to them with teary eyes.
My legs bring me out of the room, even when I didn't remember moving them. It's like I don't own my body, like my brain isn't functioning.
Maybe I just want to escape from everybody, to disappear from this world.
Now, the dining room is before me, and all I can see is the flashback of us having dinner together. The whole family. Just like two days ago.
Lais sat beside me, her beautiful smile tugging at her lips. She laughed, listening to our jokes.
That sight used to warm my heart, but right now, it rips me apart. Because I can't see her anymore.
I can't see her smile again. I can't hear her laughter anymore.
My longing for her explodes in my chest. Guilt and regrets burn my insides, and the next thing I realize is storming out of the dining room, toward the back door, and rushing to the garage.
I pick one of my cars, get into it and slam the door shut. My jaw tightens as I start the engine, and the sound of tires screeching echoes in the air.
I drive like a mad person, heading toward the opened gate of my house, earning a shout from the guard as I pass him.
The car keeps speeding off, my grip tightening on the steering wheel. The rain is falling, drenching New York city, which is getting darker due to the weather.
