It all started with a game

Chapter 23.1

Ryder nodded, brushing away a stray tear with his thumb before leading the way. This time I actually got to look at his room, and it was even better than his one at his mom's place. It was slightly messy, but in a good way, lived in messy. His desk was covered in schoolwork and in the corner of the room sat a surfboard with a wetsuit hanging on it. Beside it was a small pile of sand that had been tracked in. A hamper filled with laundry sat in the closet beside all of his clean clothes, which had been hung and folded neatly. It smelled even more like Ryder than his other room, exactly like the beach. It was beautiful. It was brighter than his other room too, with cream colored walls and a large window expanding across the walls, which in the morning I'm sure had a great view. I could just imagine the sunlight streaming in, casting a glow over the whole area.

Ryder took a seat on the bed, pulling me onto his lap. "What happened?"

"I saw my father."

He took in my sentence his face bouncing from confusion to understanding within seconds.

I highly doubt he understood the mess that was my life.

"I saw my father a lot after he died too, it's normal," he tried to reassure me.

Great, he thinks I'm seeing dead people. I wish that was what had happened. "He's not dead. He faked his own death."

Ryder's eyebrows shot up. Like I said, messed up life. "What do you mean?"

I swallowed, my mouth suddenly incredibly dry. "I lied to you about the fire. We weren't asleep."

Ryder took in my every word with an open and clear mind. "Okay."

"He—my father—had been looking at something on Sonny's phone when Sonny got a message from his boyfriend at the time. My dad flipped after finding out Sonny was gay. He called Sonny into the room and all I remember hearing was Sonny scream and when I got in there, his unconscious body was slumped against the wall." A tear slid down my cheek as I remembered it. Ryder didn't wipe it away, as if to tell me it was okay to cry and I knew he would wipe them all away when I was finished.

I paused, taking a breath. "I'm sorry," I whispered.

"It's okay, take your time."

I did take my time, I took as long as I needed between sentences, finally managing to tell him more. "I got angry and I started yelling at him and hitting him but he was a lot bigger than I was. He'd been drinking and he lashed out, throwing all the beer bottles on the ground before adding me to the pile. And then Klaus tried to stop him, and—" My lip quivered as another batch of tears spilled down my cheeks. I would never get the picture of my big brother's face covered in so much blood that you couldn't recognize him. I would never get the sounds of his cries out of my head. I couldn't finish that part, I couldn't tell Ryder that part in full. It hurt too much to think about it. "He hurt Klaus." It was all I could get out. "My mother had been watching everything but he told her to go to the store once he started on Klaus. She listened to him." It was the most horrifying thing, to watch my mother walk away while her son screamed in pain, while I was bleeding so badly that I couldn't move.

I rested my head on Ryder's shoulder, letting everything out, taking my time because this was the hardest thing I would ever do. Then I managing to continue. "The neighbor heard the screaming and came to make sure we were okay. My father had left before she got there. She saw the three of us on the floor—I was the only one conscious—and was so startled that she accidentally knocked over a candle, which fell onto the alcohol drenched curtains and the place went up in flames before she had time to stop it. She managed to get Klaus out before the damage was too bad."

Ryder ran his fingers through my hair, listening intently.

"My father was a police officer, and they helped him fake his own death so that he wouldn't go to jail. He's been stalking us ever since." I finished, wiping my nose which had begun to run. I'm sure Ryder must think I look like a mess.