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When the officers say goodbye to us and leave the house, I give myself a few seconds to close my eyes and breathe. There's no need to panic. There's no need...

“Fuck!" my dad blurts out, "How could this happen? Aiden, I thought you had it under control! I trust you to deal with this type of shit.”

I clench my fists and force myself to stay calm. I slowly turn to my dad.

"I controlled ‘this shit’ as much as someone can control a lot of women your son has abused. Watch your fucking tone, because I'm not in the mood for you to talk to me like I'm your fucking assistant," I say, my voice clear and loud enough for him to understand. I'm not going to yell or make a fuss, but I'm not going to let him walk all over me either. My father's eyes widen as if he's shocked by what I said.

"Aiden, what the hell? This is not the time for you to find your voice," he scoffs, rolling his eyes. Fuck him, "We need to stick together. I just want to know how..."

"I have no idea how this happened,
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