Chapter 54 By That Time

• “By that time, I was already fourteen.” I can’t see Patrick’s bitter smile, but I can sense it. “And age didn’t matter. Not to my father . . . and certainly not to his rival.”
• “I’m sorry.” I don’t know what else to say. I want to cry—for him, for Maria, for that young boy who’d lost his friend in such a brutal manner. And I want to cry for myself, because I now understand my captor better—and I realize that the darkness in his soul is worse than anything I could’ve imagined.
• Patrick shifts underneath me, and I become aware of the fact that my hand is now on his shoulder and my nails are digging into his skin. I force myself to unclench my fingers and take a deep breath. I need to get a hold on myself, or I’m going to burst out sobbing.