Revelations

"You're lying," I whispered. "You know there was blood. You saw it. You were just trying to make me feel better. But you didn't."

"Nina." His voice is the same as it was back then—accusatory, disbelieving. "It's been five years. Can't you trust me?"

"I know what I saw," I said, glaring at him.

"And I know what I saw," he challenged. "Please. You know your memories from that night are muddled."

"Isaac—" I started, but he cut me off, his words startling me.

"I was there—before, Nina. I was there before your dad died."

I blinked at him. "What the hell are you talking about?"

Isaac brushed a hand through his hair. "You called me that night, after you and your dad had a fight. It was bad, but you wouldn't tell me what happened. You were crying, and you kept apologizing."

"I didn't." I closed my eyes, my head aching. "I never called you."

"Yes, you did," he said. "You just don't remember."

"Tell me, then," I said against his chest. "What did I do?"

His words were low. "You didn't do anything."