The 18th Time They Lost Me Chapter 09

The 18th Time They Lost Me Chapter 09

The bills were rough against my palm. I held them 

without moving. 

He still wouldn’t look up. His voice came out muffled, like he was talking to the floor. 

“Don’t work this late anymore. It’s dangerous. Even 

if you… even if you want nothing to do with us, don’t put yourself at risk.” 

He swallowed. “You’ll always be Quinn to me. I know I messed up. Growing up, I thought you were just some distant relative from the old territory crashing with us for a while. I never meant to treat you like a burden. But at the studio…” 

His voice dropped. “I shouldn’t have hit you. I shouldn’t have ripped up that form. I figured you were just being dramatic and you’d be back in a few days. But you left. And you never came back.” 

His voice trailed off into nothing. I smoothed the bills flat, walked over, and pressed them back into 

his hand. 

He stared down at them like he didn’t know what 

hands were for. 

“I don’t need it.” My voice was steady. “I’m doing 

fine at King’s. Scholarships, financial aid. I take 

care of myself.” I paused. “Money doesn’t fix this, 

Silas.” 

His fingers tightened around the bills, then 

loosened, then tightened again. 

He tried to smile. It didn’t land. “You were always 

like this. Stubborn as hell. I should’ve seen it 

sooner.” 

He shook his head. “You’re nothing like Maya. 

When she cries, the whole pack comes running. 

But you? You never said a word. You just took it. 

Eight years in that room under the stairs with that 

threadbare blanket, and you never once 

complained. Holidays came and went and your 

never got a single new dress, and you never asked 

for a thing. I told myself you were tough. That your 

didn’t need anyone.” 

His voice cracked. “I get it now. That wasn’t 

strength. I just wasn’t paying attention.” 

He dragged a hand across his forehead. The cut 

had opened again. Blood ran down his temple and he didn’t bother wiping it. 

“I know sorry doesn’t mean anything to you. You’re 

not someone who falls for pretty words.” He 

exhaled. “So… just take care of yourself. I’ll be 

around. Watching out for you. Whether you want 

me to or not.” 

Silas turned and walked out. 

After that, Mom started calling. Not often. Every 

time, she opened the same way. “Quinn, how are 

you doing?” 

I told her I was fine. She’d go quiet for a beat, then 

keep going. 

“We were wrong, Quinn. Silas is running deliveries 

during the day and stocking shelves at a 

convenience store at night. He says he owes you 

eight years.” 

Another pause. 

“Your dad sits in the living room every night going 

through photos. There’s barely any. He just sits 

there staring at them.” 

Her voice would thin out. 

“Maya… she’s gone. Got into some college far away and left without telling us. The house is 

empty now. It’s just your dad and me.” 

I leaned against the rail of my bunk with the phone 

pressed to my ear. “Mm.” That was all I gave her. 

It wasn’t that I didn’t want to talk. There was just 

nothing left in me to say. 

The pain, the grief, the anger, all of it had gone quiet that afternoon at the studio. Settled to the bottom like sediment. And stayed there.