“My house. My family.” Silas stormed toward me, moving so fast I didn’t have a prayer. His hand wrapped around my neck, squeezing. “Don’t you cry for them! They didn’t love you. Your parents let you go to that party where Felix felt you up in the closet. They let you be a dirty whore.” The tears only came faster; I didn’t have a prayer of stopping them. Mom. Dad. Emilia. They were dead because some sicko had been obsessed with me. Dead because of me.
