Chapter 2

A few days later, Sarah was packing boxes. Not many, just essentials. She was moving into Jake's cramped apartment, or so she said.

"He needs me there, Liam. His episodes are getting worse," she stated, folding a sweater with detached precision.

My stomach churned. Episodes. That' s what she called Jake' s tantrums, his destructive rages.

"And what about your college plans? You were accepted at City Central," I reminded her. We' d talked about it, vaguely, attending colleges in the same city, sharing an apartment.

"Plans change," she said, not meeting my eye. "Jake' s health is the priority."

Pop-up: See how she avoids your gaze? She can' t bear to show you her pain.

I ignored it. "He' s manipulating you, Sarah."

"He' s suffering!" she shot back, her voice rising. "He was fine before he saved me. This is my responsibility."

There it was. The guilt. Jake' s strongest weapon.

I remembered the night clearly. The supposed "dangerous situation" Jake "saved" her from. A minor fire in a dumpster behind a bar, which Jake himself probably started. He' d emerged coughing dramatically, claiming inhalation of toxic fumes, while Sarah looked at him with wide, terrified, adoring eyes.

That was the beginning of his "chronic debilitating illness."

The doctors found nothing definitive, of course. But Jake was a master performer.

The pop-ups started again, a flurry of them.

Pop-up: She has to believe him. The alternative is too horrifying for her.

Pop-up: She' s trapped, Liam. Only you can see the truth.

Pop-up: Her sacrifice is a testament to her love… for you. She' s keeping Jake from hurting you worse.

This last one made me scoff. Keeping Jake from hurting me?

My arm still throbbed sometimes where that pipe hit. Sarah had stood by, frozen, while Jake' s friend swung. When it was over, she' d rushed to Jake, who was feigning a coughing fit.

"Are you okay, Jake? Oh my god!" she' d cried.

She hadn' t even glanced at me, clutching my bleeding arm.

Later, she' d said, "You shouldn' t have interfered, Liam. You made it worse."

The pop-ups then had claimed: She was trying to de-escalate. She was terrified for you.

The memory was bitter.

I looked at Sarah, now taping up a box labeled "Jake - Medical."

"He' s going to destroy you, Sarah."

"He needs me," she repeated, her voice a dull monotone. "And I need him."

Pop-up: She' s lying to herself. She needs YOU.

Before Jake, things weren' t great between Sarah and me, but they were… stable. Distant, yes, but not this agonizing charade. We coexisted. Sometimes, I' d catch her looking at me with an expression I couldn' t decipher, a flicker of something soft before the ice returned. Lily was the bridge, the only warmth in that big, empty house.

Jake had arrived like a storm, and everything good had been swept away.