His little shoulders stilled.
He stared at me as if afraid to blink.
“My daddy pushed me out the window. Told me to run. Told me not to look back and to get help.”
The boy’s lips parted.
He knew the next part already, didn’t he?
“The roof collapsed before they could get out,” I whispered. “My daddy… my baby sister… they didn’t make it.”
The room went silent.
Even the storm outside seemed to pause.
I swallowed hard.
“I thought for years that I killed them. Because I did what they told me. Because I ran when I was supposed to.”
Marcus’s bottom lip trembled.
“Just… like… me?” he choked out.
“Yes,” I said. “Just like you.”
The Moment His Walls Broke
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