Marcus
I push off the doorframe and find myself under that flickering bulb, the light pulsing like a bad heartbeat. Rebecca falls in beside me, her hand sliding into mine without asking. I give it a squeeze.
"Did you hear what he asked?" I keep my voice low, more to Rebecca than anyone down this empty hall. "He wanted me to… take care of Mom."
She hesitates, then threads her fingers through mine. "Yeah. I heard."
I swallow the lump in my throat. "He actually thinks.." My voice trails off.
She tilts her head, her eyes soft but fierce. "What did he do to you, Marcus?"
look away from her, toward the peeling wallpaper and the dust floating in the yellow light. Anything but her eyes.
"He used to lock me in the cellar when I cried," I say finally, the words scraping their way out. "Said boys who cry turn into weak men. Said I'd thank him one day."
Rebecca doesn't speak. She just stays close, thumb gently stroking the back of my hand.
