Page 180 of Shattered Silence Duet

I jerk back in surprise. “Worried about me? Why?” I ask, genuinely confused.

“You’ve been distancing yourself from us. From Mina. What’s going on, man? Why haven’t you spoken to her yet?”

The question lands hard, like a blow, and I immediately stand, the tension in my chest suddenly unbearable. I start pacing. “I don’t want to talk about this,” I say, irritation bleeding into my tone.

“Well, tough luck. We’ve given you more than enough time to come around. But now your actions are causing Mina harm, so we aren’t willing to sit back and let you brood silently anymore.”

I freeze mid-step, turning sharply to face him. “What do you mean, I’m causing her harm?”

“Gid, can’t you see how much she cares about you? Every time you’re in the room, she looks at you with so much longing and hurt. She doesn’t know why you’re staying away, and neither do the rest of us.”

His words hit like a punch to the gut. The guilt surges up, overwhelming me. “I didn’t mean to hurt her even more. I’m such a bloody fuck-up!” I growl, grabbing at my hair, the frustration spilling over.

Tucker jumps up, grabbing my wrists and gently pulling them down. “Hey, stop that. Talk to me, Gideon. What’s going on?”

“Don’t you get it? It’s all my fault!” I yell, the words tearing out of me.

“What’s your fault?” he asks, his tone calmer now, but I can’t stop the avalanche of thoughts.

“I’m the only one who met Helen. Iknewsomething was off. I should have known she was harming her daughter—it was so obvious!” I pull away from him and resume pacing, my steps quick and erratic.

“G—” Tucker starts, but I cut him off, the floodgates fully open now.

“She came to school, day after day, with a giant, infected hole in her arm and lashes on her back, and I failed to notice those, too!” I spit out, my voice breaking.

“None of us did,” Tucker says, but I barely hear him, the memories playing on a loop in my head.

“I wasn’t there to walk her to the library in time, and because of me, she wasassaulted!” The word catches in my throat, and I push through it, my voice shaking. “And because of that, and my lack of convincing the principal not to call her mother, she was almost killed. She lost a bloodyfingerbecause of me! She might not ever be able to have children because of me! How can I get close to her when all I do is cause her pain?!” I yell the last words,the guilt consuming me now I’m finally speaking the thoughts that have been plaguing these past few weeks.

“Gideon, none of that is any more your fault than it is mine,” Tucker says, his voice firm, trying to reach me.

“Of course it’smyfault. I’m the one who’s supposed to be able to dig beneath the surface, to see our cases and people on a deeper level. But I was so distracted by my desire for her that I was blinded to her pain. It’smyfault, Tucker. Mine!” I yell the last word at him, clenching my fists in anger as I breathe heavily.

I’ve never been good at expressing my emotions before, keeping them close to the chest, so it’s not exactly a surprise that the tiniest amount of prodding by him has caused me to explode, letting everything out that’s been eating me alive.

“Gideon?” At the sound of her gentle voice, I freeze, my eyes widening as I look at Tucker. I try to compose myself as I slowly turn to find Mina standing inside my doorway, looking nervous.Is she scared of me?

Her eyes roam my face as I look at her, terrified to speak or even move.How much of that did she hear?

“Nothing that happened to me is your fault,” she says, taking a slow step towards me.

“Y—” I try to speak, but she cuts me off, stepping closer.

“No, Gideon. It’s mine. I should have told you, any of you, what was going on. Especially when you found the wound on my arm. But I was scared. Even if you had pushed me more, I wouldn’t have opened up, I wasn’t ready.”

I shake my head, wanting her to understand the full extent. “It’s my fault Brad attacked you.”

“No, it’s Brad’s fault. And if it didn’t happen that day, it probably would have been another. You can’t carry the weight of someone else’s choices on your conscience.”

“But—” I try to explain, but she keeps talking.

“Answer this. Is it my fault all those girls are dead?”

“What?” I ask in horror. “Of course not!”

“But they were killed because they looked like me. Is it my fault my mother poured bleach down my throat?”

The blood drains from my face as I shake my head, that image alone enough to shut me up. “If I had stopped talking, like she told me to, she wouldn’t have done it,” she tells me as her eyes dampen with tears.