“Mr. Casper is very excited to see you again.”
I huff. This lady was a good liar. That man never wanted me. Neither of my parents did.
I angle my chin up. “Who says I want to see him?”
Her features twist, like she doesn’t understand why I am asking that. The guilt from her expression starting to eat away at me. I shove past it when I notice her anxiousness.
Her mouth opens, but I cut in. “What did you say your name was again?”
She repeats it. This time more slowly, but it still doesn’t register. The fogginess in my head looking for an excuse to delay the truth.
“I should have started with this,” she says, clearing her throat. She doesn’t sway, even though she is uncomfortable. I give her some points, at least she isn’t a complete coward.
“I’m sorry for your loss, Rory.”
I give her a droll stare. Her words not registering.
She continues, “Considering the recent death of your mother, your father has been awarded full custody. He would like you to start your senior year with him and the rest of the Caspers.”
Spotting movement, I watch Alma’s hooded eyes as she slides a piece of paper I hadn’t seen before toward me. The blonde-haired woman explains the custody order was issued by the court yesterday and the document delivered by the request of Abram in case I needed proof.
I don’t bother picking it up. Her presence here tells me everything I need to know.
My throat feels dry. I swallow roughly, feeling like a freight train is colliding with my chest. A strangled noise rips from my lungs. She misinterprets the reasoning.
“Again, I do apologize about your mother.”
I could laugh, but it wouldn’t carry any weight. I have lost a lot of things, but a parent is not one of them.Eitherof them.
“When?”
She picks up the paper. “…Yesterday?”
My head shakes frantically. “I mean Lillian’s death.”
Shifting, she’s trying to puzzle it out, but I don’t care. I need to know how long ago it happened.
“Last week.” She is back to speaking slowly, drawing out the words. Distress etches her face. “Is this the first you’re hearing of this—”
My eyes flash, spots dancing in them. “How?”
I need to know all the facts. I am at least due that much before I am forced back to the one place I never thought I’d see again.
“She had a seizure, hit her head, and died immediately upon impact.”
Goose bumps break out across my neck.
A seizure? I guess all her years of popping antidepressants finally caught up with her.
Reality sets in and those spots blind me. Their smoke-filled talons suffocating as they tighten their hold on my chest. I thought Abram had been the better option, but like a smokeless fog, that is being stripped away from me too.
My lungs scream but I can’t breathe.
I am so close to that magic number, eighteen. But not close enough.
My eyes meet the despair in Alma’s, and I lose it. My surroundings become unfamiliar in my desperation to flee. This room is too small. Where is the closest exit?
Concentrate, you need to focus.