They both ignored me. Looking past me as if I didn’t exist. Instead of being worried about the church, they should’ve been horrified by the trauma their daughter had experienced.

“I—I . . .” Sammie took a deep breath as I laced my fingers with hers and squeezed her hand slightly. Still here, Sammie. You’re not alone. “The girls from the basketball team threw me an eighteenth birthday party. It was a surprise. I didn’t know it was happening until I showed up.”

“Did you drink?” Mama asked.

“No, ma’am.”

“Did you do drugs?”

“No, ma’am.”

“But you were stupid enough to let a boy take advantage of you because you were running around like a little hussy with your whore friends. I mean, seriously, Samantha Grace, what did you expect to happen? You were pretty much throwing yourself into these men’s faces and—”

“Shut up, Harper,” Dad cut in, scolding his own wife. I wasn’t shocked that he’d told her to shut her mouth, because my father was a professional at putting my mother down. He belittled her all the time whenever he got the chance. If dysfunctional was a love story, it would be Theo and Harper Taylor’s. “I’m getting sick of your monologues today.”

Mama didn’t say a word. Embarrassment flashed across her face. The only person in the world who could make Mama feel worthless was Dad, and he made sure to make her feel that way every chance he got. She took his verbal beatings too. Almost as if she didn’t know anything else. Mama never seemed the type to be afraid of anyone. I swore, sometimes I thought she could stand up to the devil and not break a sweat. Yet with Dad, she always fell submissively to her knees before him.

Toxicity at its finest.

At least he was stopping her from putting down Sammie. At least it seemed as if he was doing the right thing, until he spoke again.

“You need to leave,” Dad said as he stared my way.

I raised an eyebrow, confused. “I think Sammie needs me here.”

“I wasn’t talking to you, Emery. I was talking to your sister. Samantha, you need to pack your bags and go.”

“What . . . but Daddy . . .” Sammie’s eyes welled with tears. She always called him Daddy, because she was his little princess.

“Don’t call me that,” he snapped at her; his eyes that often looked on her with pure love were filled with nothing but distaste. “Go pack some bags and leave. I will not sit here and have you showcase your mistakes in front of me, in front of this town, and ruin our reputation. Leave.”

Mama’s eyes softened for a split second before they iced over just like Dad’s.

When did it happen?

What year was it when my parents became monsters who pushed their children away?

When did they give themselves to the darkness and pretend that they were praising God?

“Where . . . where will I go?” Sammie asked as her voice cracked with fear.

“How about to the house of the boy who did this to you? It’s not really our concern, now, is it?” Mama snapped, her words filled with disgust. She turned her body away from Sammie, as if the simple act of looking at the child she’d brought into this world was too hard for her soul to handle.

It wasn’t long before Dad turned his back on her too. Without thought, Sammie crumbled as she rushed over to Dad’s side. She threw herself at his feet and wrapped her arms around his legs, begging, pleading for him to reconsider. Praying that he’d change his mind about disowning the one child who seemed to never have let him down.

“Daddy, please, you don’t understand. I’m sorry. I’m sorry, it’s just—”

“Let me go, Samantha,” he ordered, his tone smoky and harsh. My father never smoked a day in his life, but his voice held a grittiness as if he’d smoked a pack a day for the past forty years.

“No. I won’t let go. Please, Daddy. I’m sorry. I love you, Daddy, and we can fix this. We can do whatever it takes. Please. Please,” Sammie cried, and with each plea, my heart ached for her.

Dad didn’t show any signs of pity, just disgust.

I walked over and wrapped my hand around Sammie’s forearm. “Let go, Sammie. Come on. Let’s go.”

“No. I won’t let go. Look at me, Daddy. Please,” she said, but he wouldn’t. What kind of monster could be so cruel?

“Get up, Sammie, please.” I yanked on her arm. “You don’t need to ever beg for anyone’s love. Not even his.”

“You should leave, too,” Dad told me.

“Trust me, I am. I don’t want to be here to begin with.”

Once I was able to get Sammie to let go of Dad’s leg and pull her to a standing position, Dad finally built up enough nerve to look her way. “You did this to yourself.” With that, he and Mama exited the room.