(LIAM'S POV)
My mother continued talking.
"I got up, tears streaming down my face, my clothes torn and hanging off my body. I walked out of that bedroom, down the hallway, and into the living room of the house. And I made a scene."
"What kind of scene?" Dylan asked.
"A big one. I screamed. I cried. I shouted for everyone to come and see what Paul had done to me. I didn't care about the shame. I didn't care about the consequences. I felt like my life was over anyway, so what did I have to lose?"
She laughed bitterly.
"Paul tried to drag me away. He tried to pull me back upstairs, to shut me up. But I wouldn't budge. I grabbed onto the furniture, I clung to the doorframes, I screamed louder and louder until—"
"Until what?" I asked.
"Until his parents came back."
She paused, her eyes distant.
