Sebastian's POV
I drove from Olivi's house, her smile still lingering in my mind like warmth in the cold. For a second, I just sat outside my house in the car, gripping the wheel, trying to keep that feeling alive—the soft glow of her, the way she looked at me like I wasn't broken.
But I couldn't stay here.
I had to go back.
The Patterson house loomed ahead like a sickness, its windows dark, its silence loud. I parked and walked slowly up the steps, heart pounding harder with every footfall. My ribs tightened.
The second I stepped inside, I felt it. The air changed. The house swallowed the light right out of me.
Then I heard the voice.
"Still think you can come and go as you please?"
I froze. My father stepped out from the kitchen, shadows wrapped around him like a second skin. His eyes locked on mine, dissecting every inch of my face, my posture.
"You're smiling," he sneered. "You were happy, weren't you?"
I said nothing. There was no point.
"Answer me."
"We won the game," I said quietly, jaw clenched. "That's all."
"That's all," he echoed with a laugh that didn't sound like laughter. "Then why do you look like you've tasted freedom?"
He stepped closer. I didn't move. If I stood still, if I didn't show it—maybe…
"You've got someone," he hissed. "You think I don't see it? You think I don't feel it in the air when you walk in with that softness on your face?" His voice lowered, sharper now. "What's her name?"
"There's no one."
He backhanded me. Not across the face—he always tried to not touched the face. That was his rule. Keep the scars where no one can see them. But sometimes he just forgets the rule
I stumbled back, and then the real hits began.
To the ribs. The stomach. The back.
Each blow was calculated. Controlled. He wasn't just hurting me. He was reminding me.
"You think you get to have joy while I'm rotting in this house?" he spat, slamming his fist into my side again. "I gave up everything. Your mother. My future. And you dare look like you've found something better?!"
I coughed, doubling over, trying not to cry out. That would only make it worse.
"I see it in your eyes, Sebastian," he growled. "You think you can escape. You think you can love. You think you're better than me."
"I don't," I whispered.
He kicked me hard in the ribs. I dropped to my knees, choking on air.
"You don't get to love someone," he hissed, crouching beside me. "You're not made for that. You're made from me, and I am rot. I am fire. I am everything that eats people alive."
My vision blurred.
"You think she's gonna save you?" he laughed bitterly. "She'll leave. Just like your mother did. Just like everyone does. No one stays with the broken, son. They just pretend."
And then, like he always did—he vanished into silence. Left me bleeding on the inside, body shaking, mind spinning.
I collapsed against the floor, breath shallow.
My ribs throbbed. My stomach twisted. Every part of me wanted to disappear. To crawl out of this skin. But then…
I saw her face in my mind.
Olivia. Her voice. Her light. The way she looked at me like I was more.
I gritted my teeth.
He didn't know about her. Not really. He suspected. But he didn't know. And I'd keep it that way.
I dragged myself up to my room, every movement searing. My body screamed. My soul curled inward. But her name kept me standing.
Olivia.
"I deserve her," I whispered through the ache, jaw tight. "No matter what you do to me. I deserve her."
And that thought was the only thing that kept me breathing.
The hallway light buzzed overhead as I grabbed my hoodie, tugging the sleeves down over the bruises. My ribs ached. Each breath still caught fire in my chest, but I moved carefully, methodically. I'd gotten good at hiding it—at pretending. Years of practice turned pain into routine.
But this morning, it was different. I wasn't moving for me. I was moving because she would be waiting.
Olivia.
I checked my reflection quickly—no bruises on my face, just the same tired eyes, and the small smile I'd trained myself to wear. I touched the camera roll in my phone, where I'd saved every photo. Every mark. Every injury. Proof. For what, I didn't know. Maybe for Eve. Maybe for the future. Maybe… in case I stopped being able to tell myself it wasn't as bad as it really was.
I left the house silently. My father was passed out, the living room still reeking of whiskey and smoke. I didn't look back.
When I reached the school parking lot, I saw her.
Olivia.
Waiting by the doors, arms wrapped around herself like the wind had teeth. Her eyes lit up the second she spotted me, and my throat tightened.
God, how does she still look at me like that?
I walked faster, pain be damned.
"Hey," I called.
She turned. Smiled. But then her smile faltered—just slightly. Her eyes narrowed, scanning me like she was searching for something.
"Hey," she said softly, walking toward me. "You okay?"
I nodded. Too fast. Too fake.
Her hand reached for my arm—and I flinched.
It was barely noticeable. A twitch. A moment. But Olivia noticed everything.
She froze.
"Seb…?"
I forced a smile. "It's nothing. Just sore from the game."
She didn't believe me. I knew that the moment her eyes darkened. But she didn't press—at least not right there.
Instead, she moved in slowly. Deliberately. She wrapped her arms around me, pulling me into a hug.
I tried not to gasp.
The pain roared under her touch, and I stiffened, body locking up like a wire pulled too tight. She felt it. Of course she did.
She stepped back, brows furrowed. "Why did you flinch?"
"I didn't."
"Sebastian."
"It's just—" I tried to reach for another excuse, but none of them sounded right. None of them could stand in front of her eyes, sharp and wet and filled with so much knowing.
She didn't argue. She just took my hand, and I let her. Because trying to fight her was pointless. I didn't want to push her away. I just didn't want her to hurt for me.
She pulled me down the hallway, silent, determined, toward the fire exit at the back of the school—the place where no one ever went this early in the morning.
"Liv, don't—"
She didn't answer. She closed the door behind us, the world falling quiet except for our breathing.
Then, gently—like asking permission with her eyes—she reached for the hem of my hoodie.
I didn't stop her.
I couldn't.
Because in that moment, the exhaustion was heavier than my pride. I was too tired to lie, too tired to fake it. And maybe some part of me wanted her to know. Wanted her to see.
She lifted the fabric slowly.
Her breath hitched the second her eyes landed on the bruises—those deep, sickening purples and angry reds across my ribs and sides. Her fingers trembled, hovering just inches from my skin.
I looked away.
I couldn't watch her face.
Not when I knew exactly what she'd see.
Olivia shook her head, her eyes filling. "I should've stopped you yesterday," she said, voice cracking. "I should've done something—I should've begged you not to go back there, I should've made you stay with me—God, Seb, I knew he'd do something."
Her voice shattered then, and she took a step back, covering her mouth like that would keep the sob in. It didn't.
Tears ran down her cheeks before she could even try to stop them.
"I just let you go," she cried. "I just let you walk into that house like it wasn't a goddamn war zone."
"Liv…" I stepped forward, but she shook her head, wiping her face hard like she hated being this undone.
"I'm supposed to protect you too, Seb," she whispered. "I let you go back there—how could I let that happen?"
"You didn't let anything happen," I said, the words rough and quiet. "You can't stop him. No one can."
"But I should've tried!" she said, almost a shout now, full of hurt and fury. "I should've fought harder—for you."
Her voice broke again, and this time, I couldn't stay still.
I pulled her into my arms, even if it hurt, even if every bruise screamed.
Because she was the only thing keeping me whole.
"You fought enough just by staying," I whispered into her hair. "You don't have to carry this too."
But she cried harder, pressing herself against my chest like she could shield me with the force of her love alone.
And all I could do was hold her back and pretend I didn't feel like I was the one tearing her apart.
Olivia's Pov
I sat in literature class, but I wasn't reading. I couldn't.
The words swam uselessly across the page, nothing sticking. All I could see was Sebastian—flinching under my touch, his body covered in bruises he didn't even try to hide from me. Like he didn't think he had to anymore. Like a part of him had already given up on being safe.
And I should've stopped him.
I should've screamed, begged, blocked the car if I had to. Anything but let him walk back into that house.
Tears slipped down, one after another, silent. I didn't bother wiping them away anymore. I just kept my head down, let them fall like raindrops on a page I couldn't read.
"Olivia?" My teacher's voice cut softly through the fog. I blinked up, my vision swimming. "Are you alright?"
I nodded too quickly. "Just not feeling well. May I be excused?"
She didn't ask questions. She just nodded, and I was already on my feet.
I stepped into the hallway, then outside. The cold air wrapped around me like a question I couldn't answer. I kept walking—past the benches, past the practice fields, until I found the quiet. That little stretch of grass no one ever came to.
I sat down in it and folded my knees into my chest, staring out at nothing.
How do you protect someone who won't protect themselves?
How do you hold someone who flinches every time they feel warmth?
I didn't hear Luke until he was close.
"You okay?" he asked.
I didn't even look up. "You already know the answer."
He sighed and sat beside me, silence wrapping around us for a moment.
"I don't know how to help him," I said finally, voice cracking.
"Every game night… he drives Eve to your place."
"Because he knows," Luke murmured. "He always knows. Doesn't matter if he wins or loses If he lost, he was a failure. If he won… then he had the audacity to be happy. And his dad couldn't take that. Couldn't stand to see Seb smile."
I shook my head, burying my face in my hands. "I should've stopped him, Luke. I should've fought harder. I let him go."
"You didn't let it happen, Olivia," he said softly. "We've all tried to stop it. But Seb… he's scared. Not just of his dad—of what asking for help means. He always says, 'It's not your problem.'"
"But it is!" My voice cracked, rising. "It is my problem! He's—he's mine now.
I swallowed, throat tight. "He flinched when I hugged him."
Luke looked at me then, and I saw the same helplessness in his eyes that I felt in my chest. "That's not about you. It's about everything he's learned to expect."
A bitter laugh slipped from my lips. "It's like he's been trained to hurt."
Luke didn't answer that. He couldn't. None of us could.
After a minute, I looked over. "Can I tell you something?"
"Yeah. Of course."
I hesitated—just for a second. "Someone came to see me. After the party."
Luke's head snapped toward me. "What?"
"A man. Older. Maybe in his forties. I didn't see where he came from, but he grabbed me. Told me to stay away from Sebastian. To stay away from the Patterson house."
Luke's expression darkened fast. "What the hell?"
"I don't know who he was, but it wasn't some drunk relative or a nosy neighbor. He knew something, Luke. The way he looked at me... it wasn't just a warning. It was a threat."
Luke ran a hand through his hair, jaw locked. "You told Seb?"
"Not yet. I didn't want to make things worse."
"You're already part of this, Olivia. Whether you want to be or not."
I nodded, chest burning. "I know. And I'm not backing down."
Luke looked at me with something between pride and sorrow. "You love him.
I blinked hard, my vision swimming as I stared out over the empty field. My voice came out hoarse. "I don't even know what love's supposed to feel like, Luke. But when I see him hurting, I feel like I'm being ripped in half. I can't breathe when he flinches. I can't sleep knowing he's in that house with him. I want to tear it all down with my bare hands, burn every memory that man ever touched."
My hands trembled. "So yeah, maybe that's not the pretty, poetic kind of love. But it's real. It's violent and desperate and all-consuming. And if that's love, then yes—I do. I love him."
Luke didn't say anything for a moment. Then he nodded slowly, like he understood more thanI looked out toward the field, wind brushing the tears off my cheeks.
"Whoever that man was… I'm going to find out. I want to know who's trying to protect that monster inside the Patterson house."
I even said. "Then you get it now. What it means to carry his pain like your own."
Luke's expression sharpened, jaw tightening. "You think it's connected to his dad?"
I looked up at him, my voice flat and deadly calm. "No one else would care enough to threaten me like that. So yes. I think it is. And I don't care who he is. I'll drag every secret into the light. I'll expose every monster hiding behind that gate."
Luke stepped closer. "If you're really ready for that... then you won't be doing it alone. I've tried to help him before. Help both eve and seb But maybe now—with you—we can finally break this cycle."
I nodded, fire steady in my chest now. "We're going to end this. For him."