Jax

I should’ve seen it coming.

The second round of group bonding hell was some kind of “empathy partner” thing. Sit with someone. Share “a moment you struggled with.” Look them in the eye. Ask how they felt.

I almost walked out.

But Levi gave me this look from across the room—like he was watching. Not in a bad way. Just… noticing. And that pissed me off more than the game itself.

I don’t need people watching me. I don’t need witnesses.

“Let’s change it up this time,” the supervisor said. “New partners. You’ll be paired based on the last number on your name card.”

I looked down. My card had a 2.

So did his.

Eli.

The small one.

He sat curled up on a beanbag near the window, sleeves tugged halfway over his hands. Like he wanted to disappear into the fabric. When he noticed me walking over, his shoulders tensed—but he didn’t move away.

Smart kid. Or stupid. Couldn’t tell yet.

I dropped into the chair across from him, slouching low. Arms folded. Chin tilted like I didn’t give a damn.

“Guess we’re stuck,” I said.

He gave the tiniest nod.

No hello. No smile. Just… quiet.

I liked that.

The supervisor’s voice rang out across the room. “Take turns. One of you shares a memory. The other listens. Don’t interrupt. Don’t fix. Just be there.”

Just be there.

Another load of therapy garbage.

“You go first,” I muttered. I wasn’t about to play confession roulette with a stranger.

Eli shifted. For a second, I thought he wasn’t going to talk at all. But then, quietly:

“Sixth grade. I… skipped school for three days. Hid in the park. Didn’t go home.”

I blinked.

Didn’t expect that.

He didn’t look at me. Just stared at the floor like it had answers.

“My mom thought I got kidnapped. But I just… couldn’t go back. Not after what my stepbrother did.”

His voice cracked on that last word.

Just a little.

I felt something tighten in my chest, but I shoved it down. I couldn’t afford to hold other people’s pain. I had enough of my own.

But I didn’t mock him. Didn’t shrug it off.

I just said, “Did they find out?”

He shook his head.

Figures.

The silence sat between us for a long time. Not awkward—just heavy.

I hated that I understood.

“Your turn,” he said, voice barely above a whisper.

I almost laughed.

Like hell.

“No,” I said.

He looked up at me then. Really looked. And for a second, there was something like disappointment in his eyes. Not pity—worse. Understanding.

Like he knew I had a story.

Like he recognized someone else who couldn’t go home.

I hated it.

I stood up. “This is a waste of time.”

He flinched when I moved too fast. Like he expected me to throw something. Hit something. Like he’d seen it before.

That stopped me cold.

“Relax,” I muttered. “I’m not that guy.”

I walked out before he could say anything else. My chest felt like it was full of broken glass. Too sharp to breathe around.

Back in my room, I sat on the edge of the bed, hands clenched tight. My jaw ached from how hard I was grinding my teeth.

That look in Eli’s eyes—like he’d seen me, really seen me—kept echoing in my head like a punch I never dodged.

I didn’t want to be seen.

I didn’t want to care.

I wasn’t part of their world. I wasn’t made for soft things.

But for the first time since I got here…

I wasn’t so sure I could keep pretending.