"I have learned now that while those who speak about one's miseries usually hurt, those who keep silence hurt more." - C.S. Lewis

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Caden's POV

The rest of the night goes by in a blur.

I can hardly remember anything other than my conversation with Silas.

Why the heck did he want to dance me?

I couldn't tell if he was being sincere or plotting some game to upset me even more. I intentionally focused my eyes on anything but him, so as far as people knowing if someone's being candid by their eyes is true or not, I wouldn't know.

However, I can't help the sting that followed when I had declined his invitation to dance.

His shoulders slumped in disappointment and his charming manner was gone, replaced instantaneously with his guarded self. He walked away without a glance in my direction, and I can't help but notice his eyes cloud with a mix of emotions I couldn't quite make out.

I don't know if I'm happy that I was able to stand my ground and reject him so blatantly or guilty that he was trying to somewhat be nice and I had totally diminished his confidence.

I can't help but recall the way he danced with that woman a few minutes after I had rejected his first offer to dance.

They seemed close. He even leaned his head on her beautiful obsidian black locks.

I had kept myself busy by helping unloading a new batch of refreshments for the waiters but I couldn't help glance their way a few times throughout their dance.

They were talking about something that I guiltily wish I knew about, but at one point, a streak of redness flared across Silas's cheeks.

It was freaking adorable how much he blushed for that woman and it unknowingly made my heart sink a little.

I mean, he had just kissed me not even thirty minutes ago and now he's here blushing over this freaking gorgeous woman.

Any person would be jealous.

Maybe that influenced my coldness towards him.

Whatever the reason, I couldn't hold back the pang of guilt as he stalked away, masked and upset.

I contemplated going after him but not long after, Ryland joined me at my table.

He offered me to dance which I accepted because emotions were running high in my belly and dancing with Ryland would surely fix that, right?

Yeah, it didn't.

Don't get me wrong, he's a great dancer and a great guy but I know that when he looks at me, he sees me as his next relationship. His next girlfriend.

I will admit that at first, I thought he'd be my next relationship too. He's handsome, smart, charming, and overall, a nice guy. And when I first I met him, I did feel something. Something that promised a potential relationship.

But believe me when I say that I tried my absolute hardest to feel some sort of connection when we danced. Anything that would have told me that there was some spark between us.

But... There just wasn't. My belly didn't burst into butterflies when I danced him. My heart didn't speed up at his mere presence. Goosebumps didn't rake across my skin when I heard the sound of his laugh.

Now, I've never had a boyfriend (A real one at least. Middle school relationships don't count!) before so I may be wrong but I'm pretty sure those are essential factors when looking for a significant other.

And now thinking about it, I can't imagine him as anything more than a friend.

He's a nice guy and I'm sure he will find someone who deserves his love.

But, it's just not me. And as much as I don't want to be the reason he's hurting, I can't lead him on.

And I know for a fact that he's going to ask me out after tonight. Izzie was just telling me how he mumbled that he's going to ask me out at the end of the ball.

People are starting to leave now, and the party is soon going to just consist of me and the staff.

Izzie and Leia had already left together and Marcus caught a date with some model so now I'm left to help the staff clean the place up.

Intending on catching a cab, I didn't mind Izzie and Leia leaving, as I had expected to stay late and tidy up but what I did not expect was for Ryland to help out.

Yeah... This is going to be so awkward.

He's packing the champagne into boxes to be transported to one of the Sanders hotels and my heart is beating a mile a minute in anticipation for what he's about to do.

So, I did the only rational thing I could think of.

Keep him busy with cleaning up while I plotted my escape.

Nah, just kidding.

That'd just be mean.

No, I'm going to be mature about this and talk to him tonight.

"Hey Ryland, can I talk to you for a second?" He comes to me with such light in his eyes that a sting of guilt rips through my heart.

He's so sweet and I so wish I didn't have to do this.

"What's up?"

"Can we talk outside?" I suggest, not wanting to break his heart in front of so many people.

He nods and we soon exit the back doors to where his car is parked.

"Actually, I needed to talk to you too," he says, which does nothing to aid the clenching of my chest right now.

Dang it, how do I do this??

It seemed a lot easier in my head but standing there in front of him with his innocent gaze on me is tearing me apart.

How do I start this??

"Were you going to ask me out?" Okay, being up front will do, I guess.

I don't know, it was the only thing I could think of. Don't judge me!

His face falls slightly, and he lets out an awkward chuckle. "It was that obvious?"

"No, well uh, Izzie heard you saying that you were going to so..."

There's a beat of silence before he begins to speak again. "I'm guessing you asking me means that you're not interested?" His eyes don't meet mine and I feel like a complete jerk.

"No, I'm sorry," I whisper, the cool night air engulfing us both, pimpling my skin with goosebumps.

"Damn, I really thought we had something," he sighs disappointedly. He drops his head and his eyes shut for a moment and I grimace at the sight.

I'm so terrible.

He doesn't seem angry though, more let down than anything and it still makes my chest hurt at the thought.

"Yeah... I'm sorry, I just- I mean you're great, really-"

He soon cuts me off, a small smile dancing at his lips. "Hey, Caden, you don't have to be sorry," he chuckles softly.

"It's not your fault. Nor is it mine." He takes my hand into his and gives it a light squeeze. "Feelings are weird and it's not your fault that you don't feel anything with me."

I close my eyes, feeling completely horrible that HE has to reassure ME.

"I know but... I still feel terrible," I murmur.

"Yeah, so do I." His hand warms mine. "But we'll get through it together," he laughs.

I chuckle at his stupid joke. "Thank you for being so cool about this," I say. He gives me another warm smile. "Are you the type to not want to be friends with someone you have feelings for?"

"Nah, we can be friends." He drapes his arm over my shoulders, pulling me into his warmth. "You're cool. Plus, you can always warn me when the bossmans are in a cranky mood."

I laugh again. He really is great.

"Yeah, I will, don't worry." Turning to face him, I envelope him into a big hug, my hands wrapped around his neck while his encase my waist.

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I got home at around 12:30, feeling drained and exhausted.

Ryland drove me home afterwards which I was so thankful for.

Unlocking the front door, I am hit with the familiar stench of beer.

Cole is lying on the couch with his eyes closed but as soon as I step he hears my movement, his eyes instantly open and a glower is sent straight towards me.

Was he waiting for me to come home?

"Fancy dress you got there," he sneers, raking me over with his intense eyes.

By the sound of his slurring, I could tell he's drunk but conscious enough to be aware of his actions.

But by the look of anger in his eyes, I know I'm about to get a lashing.

Dang it!

We were doing so good this past month and it felt so unbelievably nice to not have a constant pain in my back.

But this is always one of the worst of them. When he beats me knowing exactly what's he's doing.

Yes, the drunk beatings are bad but the hits aren't as hard as when he's semi-conscious and the alcohol drains him out of most of his energy.

Knowing exactly what he's doing while inflicting excruciating pain onto me, his baby sister who he once comforted when crying, hurts more than any abuse he could think of.

I sigh, not wanting to engage in this condescending small talk when I know exactly what he has in mind.

"Can you just get it over with?" I mumble, too exhausted to argue.

He quirks up an eyebrow, clearly surprised at the new snip in my tone. "Wow, aren't you so fucking smart."

He doesn't do anything to move, telling me he wants to get a rise out of me before asserting his control. "This new job giving you more tongue, huh?"

I sigh again.

Why can't you just get it over with?

"Cole, I'm tired-" But he doesn't let me finish.

"Listen, bitch, just because you got some fancy new job doesn't mean you're the fucking shit, got it? You are and will always be a fucking murderer; no change in wardrobe or attitude is going to change that." His words bounce off our crumbling apartment walls but they're not anything I haven't heard before.

He's told me countless times how much I screwed our lives and killed our parents.

I can't tell you the nights I cried until I fell asleep, thinking of what could've gone differently if I hadn't begged them to go.

But I just needed them there.

I had just completed an original piece dedicated to my mom and dad; to all their hard work and love and sacrifice.

I practiced for hours perfecting it before the recital and I needed them there to see it.

Cole had stayed after school with me in the orchestra room while I had my earbuds in reciting my piece.

I wanted it to be a surprise.

Because as much as my piece was for my parents, it was also for him.

For the brother who stood up to my bullies, who held me when I had nightmares, who kissed my wounds when I was hurt.

I loved that brother. And every day, I ache for him to return.

To kill the monster sitting before me and just hold me like he did once before.

But now looking into his eyes, I know that he's gone.

And there's a slim chance that I'll ever see him again which just rips at my soul.

I don't respond to his words. I don't need to.

Because for once, I don't believe them.

I never killed my parents. Why would I?

I loved them with my whole being and they were ripped away from me.

Their deaths took everything from me.

I lost my mom, my dad, and my brother that day. And for years, I believed that I had killed them.

"No snarky comment?" he taunts.

I still don't respond. I will not give him the satisfaction of seeing me angry.

He removes himself from the couch and stalks toward me, his eyes bloodshot but his mouth twisted into a cruel smirk.

"You're so fucking pathetic," he sneers.

I notice the belt is already in his hands and for the first time, the buckle is on the receiving end.

My eyes narrow on the piece of metal that will soon indent its way into my flesh and I will myself not to react.

Don't let him win, Caden.

My face remains neutral as he turns me around and forcibly kneels me down with his foot.

My heart is shattering at what is about to happen and I try to imagine happy thoughts to ease the pain that will soon come.

But before I can even think of any happy memory, the pain dances across my back with no warning.

And not even a second later, another throb enters my nerves, and another and another.

He doesn't stop.

I can't think.

I don't have time to think before the torture continues again, over and over.

I don't react.

I don't cry out in pain.

My usual sobs don't echo the room, soon replaced by Cole's panting and the sound of the leather and metal whipping off my skin.

My instincts tell me that my non-reaction is fueling his white-hot hatred, motivating him to pound on me faster and harder.

The lashings don't stop and I realize that this is the longest and most painful beating I've ever endured.

I have no idea what time it is. I didn't keep count of the number of lashes now etched onto my back.

The only signal that tells me he's done is the relieving sound of his belt hitting the floor. He doesn't say anything.

He just leaves me to crumble on the ground.

Get up, Caden!

Crawling to the bathroom, I struggle to open the door.

I stay there for a good ten minutes to wait for the pain to subside before turning on the cold water and letting it rain down on my throbbing back.

I just couldn't stop them. My mask slips off and the tears soon start running down my cheeks.

Whatever people say about how crying helps relieve pain is a freaking liar.

Because everything hurts.

My heart, my back, my soul.

And my mind just wanders to...

Why?

Why does this have to happen to me?

What did I ever do to deserve this?

"Nothing," I mumble.

I did absolutely NOTHING to deserve his hatred, his pain, his everything.

And I knew at that moment, that the next time he raised that belt at me, I would fight back.

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