Chapter 1: The Sound of Breaking
The first sound was the crack of glass.
The second was a lie.
Sixteen-year-old Jordan Hayes stood frozen in the middle of the living room, staring at the giant television mounted above the fireplace. A white spiderweb of fractures spread across the black screen from the exact place where the soccer ball had struck it.
For half a second, Jordan looked terrified.
Then he looked toward the hallway.
Footsteps were coming.
His nine-year-old stepsister, Nia, appeared first, wearing a pink hoodie and fuzzy socks, her braids bouncing against her shoulders as she ran into the room.
“What happened?””
Behind her came Jordan’s mother, Vanessa.
Vanessa Carter had married Nia’s father, Marcus Hayes, two years earlier. She was always polished, always composed, always perfectly dressed even when she claimed she was relaxing at home. Tonight she wore cream-colored slacks and a silk blouse, and the expression on her face sharpened the moment she saw the destroyed television.
Jordan didn’t hesitate.
He pointed straight at Nia.
“She did it!””
Nia blinked.
“What?””
“She kicked the ball into the TV!””
Nia stared at him as though he had started speaking another language.
“That’s a lie! I just got here!””
Jordan raised his voice.
“You were playing with it!””
“No, I wasn’t!””
Vanessa crossed the room immediately.
Not toward Jordan.
Toward Nia.
She grabbed the girl firmly by both shoulders.
“Stop blaming your brother.””
Nia’s mouth fell open.
“I’m not blaming him! He did it!””
“You always have an excuse.””
“But I didn’t do anything!””
Vanessa pulled Nia closer, fingers tightening against the pink fabric of her hoodie.
“You cause trouble in this house, and then you act innocent every single time.””
Nia twisted around to look at her.
“You saw him!””
Something flickered across Vanessa’s face.
It was gone so quickly Nia almost wondered if she had imagined it.
Then heavy footsteps approached from the kitchen.
Marcus appeared in the doorway.
At thirty-eight, Marcus Hayes was not a man easily rattled. He managed construction projects for a living and spent most of his days solving problems involving money, deadlines, and people who refused to accept responsibility.
But the television had cost nearly four thousand dollars.
And now it looked as though someone had taken a hammer to it.
Marcus stopped dead.
“What the hell happened to my TV?””
Jordan immediately stepped toward him.
“Dad, she broke it.””
Marcus looked at him.
Jordan pointed toward Nia.
“I told her not to play soccer in here. She didn’t listen.””
Nia’s eyes widened.
“Daddy, no!””
Vanessa spoke over her.
“She’s lying again.””
Marcus looked from Vanessa to Jordan.
Then to his daughter.
Nia pulled against Vanessa’s grip.
“Daddy, please. I swear it wasn’t me. He kicked it.””
Jordan scoffed.
“She’s trying to get me in trouble.””
“You’re lying!””
“Nia!”” Vanessa snapped.
The girl flinched.
Marcus raised both hands.
“Enough!””
The room went silent.
His voice dropped.
“I want the truth. Right now.””
“I told you the truth,” Jordan said.
“So did I!”” Nia cried.
Vanessa shook her head.
“Marcus, we have been dealing with this behavior for months.””
Nia turned toward her.
“What behavior?””
“You know exactly what behavior.””
“I didn’t do anything!””
Marcus rubbed his forehead.
He was tired.
That mattered more than he would later want to admit.
He had worked ten hours that day. He had argued with a subcontractor. He had driven home through traffic. He had barely taken off his shoes before hearing something explode in his living room.
And standing before him were three people talking at once.
Vanessa sounded confident.
Jordan sounded offended.
Nia sounded desperate.
Desperation, Marcus would later understand, did not always sound like truth.
Sometimes truth sounded messy.
Sometimes truth cried.
Sometimes truth repeated itself because nobody was listening.
But in that moment, Marcus wanted silence more than understanding.
“Nia,” he said firmly, “stop yelling.””
Her face changed.
“Daddy…”
“I said stop.””
Her eyes became glossy.
Jordan folded his arms.
Vanessa exhaled as if vindicated.
Nia stared at her father.
Not angry anymore.
Hurt.
“Why won’t you believe me?””
The question should have stopped him.
Instead, Marcus looked at the television again.
That was when Nia blinked.
Once.
Twice.
Then rapidly.
Her hand rose to her forehead.
The room seemed to shift beneath her.
She took a small step backward.
Nobody noticed.
Vanessa had already started again.
“She needs consequences, Marcus. Real consequences. Every time she does something wrong, she cries and you soften.””
Jordan nodded.
“That’s exactly what she does.””
Nia stepped backward again.
The voices became strange.
Far away.
The lights above the kitchen appeared brighter than they should have been.
She swallowed.
Her stomach felt wrong.
So did her head.
She wanted to tell her father.
But he was speaking to Jordan now.
“When did this happen?””
“Like a minute ago.””
“And where were you?””
“Coming downstairs.””
Another lie.
Nia stared at Jordan.
The edges of her vision darkened.
She tried to speak.
No sound came.
Her fingers touched the wall.
She used it to guide herself toward the hallway.
Nobody followed.
Nobody even saw her leave.
Inside her bedroom, she made it three steps.
Her pink backpack sat beside her bed.
She reached toward it without knowing why.
Then the floor rushed upward.
THUMP.
Back in the living room, Marcus pointed toward Jordan.
“Look me in the eye.””
Jordan did.
“I’m telling the truth.””
Marcus studied him.
Then came the sound.
Dull.
Heavy.
From the hallway.
Marcus stopped.
Vanessa did too.
“What was that?”” Jordan asked.
Marcus turned.
“Nia?””
No answer.
He walked toward the hallway.
“Nia!””
Still nothing.
Something cold moved through his chest.
He started walking faster.
“Sweetheart?””
By the time he reached her bedroom, he was almost running.
The door stood partly open.
Marcus pushed it inward.
Everything inside him dropped.
Nia lay motionless on the wooden floor.
“Nia!””
He lunged toward her and fell to his knees.
“Baby. Hey. Look at me.””
He touched her shoulder.
No response.
He checked her breathing with shaking hands.
She was breathing.
But weakly.
“Nia, can you hear me?””
Behind him, Vanessa gasped.
Jordan appeared beside her.
“What happened?””
Marcus didn’t answer.
His eyes had landed on something near Nia’s hand.
Her backpack.
The outer pocket was open.
Two small white tablets lay near the zipper.
Marcus slowly reached down.
Picked them up.
Stared at them.
His fear did not disappear.
It changed shape.
He turned toward the doorway.
Vanessa was standing there.
Jordan beside her.
Marcus held the pills in his palm.
“What are these?””
Nobody answered.
His voice became rough.
“Why were they in her bag?””
Vanessa stepped backward.
“I didn’t give her anything. She must have taken them herself.””
Marcus stopped breathing for a second.
Jordan looked at his mother.
Marcus looked at Vanessa.
Slowly.
Carefully.
“How did you know what I was going to ask?””
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Vanessa’s face went still.
And for the first time that night, Jordan looked frightened for a reason that had nothing to do with the broken television.
