IN THE LINE

12 | HE'S NOT THAT BAD

CHLOE

I get back to Mom's room and lean against the closed door, taking a deep breath. I close my eyes, trying to process everything that just happened. This guy...Every time I think I have him figured out, he throws me off balance with something unexpected. He's not someone I'd describe as straightforward. Instead, he's this paradox, a blend of opposites that never quite make sense together.

But what really bothers me is that he has this power over me. That I keep letting him affect me. He lingers in my mind long after he's gone. When he's around, he has this way of pulling people into his orbit. You never know what he'll do or say next, and it's both infuriating and oddly captivating. What am I supposed to do now? I can't imagine being "friends" with him; I don't even know why. This shouldn't be a big deal, right?

I feel completely lost in this mess. My head spins, my knees feel weak, and my whole body trembles. I open my eyes to steady myself and see Mom looking at me, sleepy but aware.

"Chloe, my baby," she says softly, her voice weak

"Mom?" I whisper as I rush to her bed. "Are you alright? How are you feeling?" I hug her as tightly as I can, relieved just to be near her.

"I'm okay, baby. But you... did he hurt you?" she asks, as if I were the one lying in the hospital bed.

"No, Mom, I'm fine. But you... he hurt you so much. I'll never forgive myself for not protecting you." I cry into her chest, my words pouring out with all the weight of my heart. "I was so scared, Mom. So weak and terrified of him. I'm so sorry."

"Chloe, don't be silly. None of this is your fault." She's crying too, her face buried in my hair. "I'm the one responsible. I never should've put you through this. We lived in fear for too long. I was blinded, hoping things would be okay... but I was foolish. He's your dad, but he never really cared for us. He was always cold, and with alcohol, he turned into a monster."

We cry together, letting go of the years of pain, bitterness, and anger we've kept inside.

"But Chloe, I want you to understand something—hatred won't bring you peace. You have to forgive him someday, or his shadow will follow you." She strokes my hair as I continue to sob. "I saw the good in him once, too. His actions were his own, but I played my part in it. I can't say I didn't."

"Mom, don't blame yourself," I whisper, shaking my head. "You did everything you could. He can't hurt us anymore."

"Where is he now?" she asks softly, her voice shaky.

"He's in in jail."

"For how long?"

"I don't know, Mom. What are we going to do now?"

"Okay." I rest my head on her chest, listening to the steady beat of her heart. The sound calms me, and I almost drift off. My mother is all I have, the only person in this world who truly cares for me. As long as we have each other, that's enough.

Mom's voice breaks the silence. "Who was that I heard earlier?" she asks quietly.

I lift my head, blinking, trying to clear the fog from my mind. "Hmm?"

Mom's eyes, though heavy with exhaustion, have a glint of curiosity. "I heard you arguing with someone." Her voice is soft, but there's a question hanging there, unspoken.

"Oh... that was our neighbor, Dawson." I feel my cheeks heat up a little. I look away, embarrassed.

Her face changes instantly. The relaxed look fades, replaced by tension; her jaw tightens, and her eyes narrow. "What?" she asks, a hint of alarm creeping into her voice. "Which Dawson?!"