Chapter 4 - The Confession
Thomas didn't pull away from her grip. Instead, a solitary tear broke free, tracing a hot, glistening path down his cheek, catching the golden chandelier light before it fell. His eyes, usually bright and full of life, were now hollowed out by a terrifying maturity.
"Last night, he was my shelter," Thomas whispered, the words dropping into the silence of the room like lead weights. "He took the blows dad meant for me."
The air in the restaurant seemed to vanish. The ambient chatter of the surrounding diners faded into a distant, muffled hum. The beige suit jacket of his mother suddenly looked less like a symbol of success and more like a uniform of complicity. Thomas looked back at the kitchen doors in his memory, recalling the heavy sound of a leather belt, the shouting that echoed through their hollow mansion, and the sudden, violent crash that had sent him cowering into the dark corner of the hallway.
