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My boyfriend and best friend called it "exposure therapy." Whenever I was in danger, they froze. They watched me get dragged into an alley, watched me struggle for breath during an asthma attack, watched me bleed—and took pictures for my sister. I found the group chat. My mother had been dr*gging me to destroy my voice, just to make my sister feel better. Everyone was in on it. Everyone was laughing. When I finally caught them, they called me petty and ridiculous. They told me Stellan had been with my sister the whole time. They said I deserved it. I'm done being their joke. I already accepted the offer from Sablewick Conservatory—full tuition and treatment to get my voice back. They think I'm too broken to leave. They think I'll crawl back like I always do. They're wrong. I'm walking out of this city, this family, and their cruelty—and I'm never looking back. When a group of drunk men dragged me into an alley, my boyfriend and my best friend started their little freeze game again. I fought desperately less than thirty feet away while they stood at the mouth of the alley, perfectly still, pretending they couldn't hear a thing. After I was finally rescued, Tamsin Vey, my best friend, bounced over to me with a grin. "Good job, Cy! You actually made a few sounds this time. A couple more scares like that and you'll be talking again in no time!" She exchanged a look with Stellan Roarke, my boyfriend, both of them barely holding back their laughter. I didn't even need to check my phone. They had probably already dumped pictures of me at my worst into the family group chat. Ever since I'd lost my voice, the two of them had called this "exposure therapy" and used it as an excuse to play their stupid freeze game whenever I was in danger. When I had an asthma attack and begged for help, they hid my rescue inhaler and stood there watching. Another time, they left me on the side of the highway and silently watched me run after their car. I'd thought they were worried abou
