“I hurt you, Benny. I scared you. I never wanted that. I’m sorry. I love you. That’s how Dad says I know he loves me.”

Fragmented pieces of the past played in scenes, flashes here and there in Ben’s mind.

“That’s how Dad says I know he loves me. I need to hurt, Benny. That will make it go away. Make what I did to you all better. Please. I’m sorry.”

Bonnie crying.

Ben crying.

He was scared. Confused.

He snuck a knife from the kitchen. Bonnie wasn’t allowed to touch them.

Ben hid it. Brought it up to his sister.

“No...I’m scared,” he told her.

“Trust me. It will be okay. This is the only way to make it okay. I’ll play a game with you afterward. Whatever you want.”

Ben wanted that, needed to get back to normal.

He gave her the knife. Left the room.

“Isn’t it pretty, Benny? The red,” she said when he went back into the room.

He watched as seven-year-old Ben held his sister while she died.

It was too much. Too hard. Too scary to remember. So he didn’t. He forgot his sister kissed him. Forgot what she said about Daddy.

Until now....

Ben felt another kick, this one to his face.

It was too late.

CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE

They were gone. Suddenly, they were gone and Ben was alone, in the dark. Tears mixed with blood. He could hardly move but he knew he couldn’t not do anything. He hadn’t saved Bonnie back then. He’d let his father get away with it for years, blocked out the truth, but now he remembered. He remembered.

Ben rolled, pain shooting through every part of his body. He looked over, and saw his phone.

He fought his body, his arm and hand to move and he grabbed it. He wanted to call Dante. Wanted to tell him what happened. That none of it was Dante’s fault. He never could have saved Ben and Ben didn’t want Dante to feel guilty about that, because he’d given Ben something.

He’d made Ben feel loved. He realized that now... The fact that Dante had been there, the things he’d said as he held him that last time. As he’d been there for Ben, even when he wouldn’t make love to him, Ben was loved.

It wasn’t Dante who could help him now though.

Ben’s fingers shook as he dialed.

“Ben.”

“Tristan,” his voice cracked.

“What’s wrong?” There was a slight hitch in Tristan’s voice. Panic. Maybe Tristan loved him, too. Not in the way that Ben had wanted, but in another way.

“He hurt her...my father...I forgot, but he hurt her.” Other memories resurfaced...Bonnie crying about Dad. Seeing Dad come out of her room at night. Ben’s throat burned when he spoke. He could hardly get the words out but he pushed on for Bonnie. “He molested her, my sister. She never told anyone until the day she died, and then she told me. I didn’t remember. Save her, Tristan. I couldn’t do it but you can. Save her. Don’t let him get away with it.”

“Ben? Where the fuck are you? What’s going on?” There was real panic in Tristan’s voice now.

“Be happy. I’m glad you have them. I think I loved him, Tristan. Dante. I loved him.”

It was all Ben could get out. Tristan would have to take it from there. And his friend would. He had no doubt his best friend would do whatever he could for Bonnie.

“Ben! Ben! Answer me. Where the fuck are you?” Tristan yelled but Ben couldn’t speak. The phone fell out of his hand. Then she was there. Bonnie. She sat on the ground beside him. Stroked his hair. And smiled.

Ben smiled back at her...and then...nothing.

CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO

White. All he saw was white...clouds? No...fog. Ben’s eyes fluttered. It was the fog again but then it started to clear. Part way. Not completely but enough for him to see a little bit, but he couldn’t make out what it was he saw.

There was a beep in the background. And then another. Ben’s eyes fluttered again, and he groaned.

“Ben? Oh God. You’re awake. Thank God you’re awake.” His mom threw her arms around him and Ben froze, stiffened, anger clearing his vision. Had she known? Did she know what his father had done to Bonnie?

The memories were clearer now and it all made sense. Why his father wouldn’t get Bonnie help for cutting. Why she needed love so much. Why Ben felt so much guilt for even more than bringing her the knife. Why he’d used sex, when he got older—because she’d been abused and a part of him had known.

Maybe he was trying to tell himself something the whole time.

“No,” Ben managed to groan out. He didn’t want her to touch him, not until he found out if she knew. “Bon...” Ben tried to say his sister’s name but it wouldn’t come out.