Jeffrey still had Skye's list in his pocket the next day. He'd done what she asked. He pulled it out whenever his thoughts drifted back to telling Dexter that he deserved what was happening to him. The two opinions' aggressive battle gave him a headache. Dexter's continued to edge Skye's out, no matter how many times he read what she'd written (four times already that morning). His words scarred Jeffrey as much as his beatings had, and they wouldn't fade as quickly. The body healed so much easier than the mind.

He was alone in the hallway, hovering outside a closed door. Skye was in the shower; she didn't know that he had left the guest room. His leg hurt him less today. He could successfully move without shouting, and he used his crutches with ease. This wasn't the first time he'd had them; it came back rather quickly. He had gone looking for his mother and found her with Alec. He was caught up listening to them.

"He asked me if I've heard him scream," Mrs. Tifton was saying. "I miss when the answer was no."

Jeffrey cursed Dexter for saying that to her. There really was no end to the damage he had done. Every day Jeffrey learned something new.

"It's the only thing I can hear now. All night I heard it. I never slept," said Mrs. Tifton.

"I noticed. I didn't sleep either."

Were his parents seriously sharing a room? Jeffrey lingered on that peculiarity for only a second before his guilt took over. They were worn out. He was making them sick. Jeffrey had stayed up the entire night with Skye watching movies and eating every last bit of what Churchie had left for them. Jeffrey was proud of himself for that part. It was the most food he'd had in over a week. He hadn't wanted to sleep. He was afraid of the nightmares, yes, but he also wasn't willing to risk frightening his family again. He didn't feel as tired as he should have been. Stubborn adrenaline kept him alert.

"I keep thinking about introducing them. Jeffrey was eight, maybe nine. It was so many years ago. How did I not see who he was?"

"None of us did," said Alec.

"But none of you liked him. I loved him." Mrs. Tifton's words were so quiet, so full of pain. Jeffrey had to inch closer to the door to hear her. "What's wrong with me?"

"You loved that he gave you attention. That's hardly the same thing."

"You can't know that."

Alec disagreed. "Yes I can. You crave attention, it's why you married me."

"That was different. I did love you." It was quiet for a moment, then Mrs. Tifton added, "I like to think it was different."

"We were young and stupid. We didn't know what love was."

"I suppose I still don't."

"We can teach each other."

Jeffrey raised his eyebrows. That was quite a line.

Mrs. Tifton thought so too. "You're smooth, Alec McGrath. Do you know that?"

"It's all the jazz."

"Ugh."

There was no question that they were kissing each other. Jeffrey leaned back from the door, not sure that he went so far as to want to hear that.

Then Alec was talking again. "You can't beat yourself up about him."

Mrs. Tifton's sigh was like a gust of strong wind. "Why shouldn't I? Jeffrey's so beautiful, but Dexter—"

"Don't do this. It won't help you or Jeffrey."

"I failed him, Alec. It was my blind lack of sense, but he paid for it. Badly."

"Don't do this," Alec repeated slowly and deliberately.

Again there was silence. Even on the other side of the door, Jeffrey could see his mother fidgeting and trying not to cry.

"I don't get you," she said finally.

"What's that mean?"

"You were furious at me when you got here. You blamed me then. I don't know why you stopped."

"We've gone in circles about this."

"Remind me again."

"I had just left the police station. They'd asked me all these questions about where I was, what I'd been doing, when the last time I saw Jeffrey was. I didn't know what they were talking about. I was pissed off, and I was panicked. You were easy to blame. It felt better than blaming myself."

"You were never involved."

"No, but I thought about asking Jeffrey to stay with me for a while, after Dexter moved out. I didn't because I thought leaving might ruin his relationship with you."

"I'm surprised you didn't want that." It wasn't an accusatory statement. Mrs. Tifton sounded like she thought that would have been best for him.

"Selfishly, I think I did. But Jeffrey needs you, so I didn't say anything. That is the first thing I thought of when I found out it was Dexter."

"I think he would have gone for him at your place too," Mrs. Tifton said, just above a whisper.

"Yeah, maybe. But that's what I was thinking, so I deflected and held you accountable for it. I stopped because that wasn't right. I promise Jeffrey doesn't blame you either."

"Did he tell you that?"

"I don't need him to. That's not who he is."

"He's so much more like you than me. I don't understand either of you. If he had been taken from your apartment, or if you had a wife that did this to him, I would not have been so kind."

"No. You wouldn't have," Alec agreed. "I did say we could hate each other again once we got him back. If you would prefer, I can storm out right now."

"I'd rather you didn't."

"I'm glad we're on the same page."

Then they were kissing again, and Jeffrey pulled away from the door. The stitches on his face itched. It took all his willpower not to scratch at them. He'd be getting them removed in a couple of days; his mother had scheduled an appointment for Wednesday. Jeffrey had a lot of trips to the doctor in his near future. Already he was tired of it.

Coincidentally, this conversation his mother was having with Alec was exactly the subject Jeffrey was looking to broach with her. It wasn't hard to work out how she felt. He had to make sure she knew he didn't condemn her for anything. He'd felt her growing nervous around him over the past few days. She was waiting for him to accuse her of causing him all of his pain. He would never do that.

Footsteps approached behind him. He expected to find Skye, but it was Tommy. He stopped, surprised to see Jeffrey wandering about.

"I don't want to step on your toes if you're trying to be independent, but are you sure you're good by yourself?" Tommy asked.

Jeffrey resented him for that, even if it was a reasonable question. "Yeah. It's just for a second. I'll try not to pass out again."

Tommy didn't pressure him to get help, which was different. Jeffrey doubted that anyone else would have listened to him. He relaxed, his defensiveness waning.

"I'm on my way to the kitchen. Do you want me to make you a sandwich or something?" said Tommy.

Jeffrey hadn't eaten for probably eight hours, but his appetite had not returned. He did need to, if only to minimize his risk of fainting. He had lost a lot of weight. His gaunt reflection had startled him more than once. Without much enthusiasm, he replied, "Sure."

"You got it." Tommy kept watching Jeffrey. "What are you doing, anyway?"

"Spying on my parents. They keep kissing and it's hurting my brain," said Jeffrey.

Tommy laughed. "Dude, that's so awkward."

"Yeah, no kidding." It didn't improve matters any that they had spent the rest of their time talking about him.

Tommy hovered, and the hallway charged with an uncomfortable silence. Jeffrey was desperate to fill it.

"I actually came to talk to my mother," he said. "Skye's taking a shower. I thought it would be a good time."

"She's going to flip when she gets out and you're gone," Tommy pointed out.

"I think I'll be back by then. She stays in there a really long time."

A dark look crossed Tommy's face, one that was almost violent. Then it passed and he stared at the wall just over Jeffrey's shoulder. "I bet."

He knew as well as Jeffrey did that Skye spent that extra time in the shower trying to wash away Dexter. Her assault hung in the air between them, unspoken. The silence that followed wasn't an awkward one, but it was no less uncomfortable. Jeffrey turned his face away from Tommy as his thoughts flashed back to every time Skye had been touched. Dexter had also planted an image in his head of her begging him to rape her, and he couldn't shake that any better than the rest of it.

Jeffrey forced a sentence out through those unbearably clear thoughts. His voice sounded distant, like he wasn't the person speaking. "You found her."

Tommy scratched at his face in discomfort. "Yeah."

Jeffrey mulled that over for a while before he asked, "What did he do?"

Tommy's uneasiness became even more apparent. "Look man, I don't know if you want—"

"I had to watch." The words tasted like poison. "You can't make it worse."

Tommy exhaled and rested his back against the wall. He crossed his arms and still didn't quite look at Jeffrey. "She was locked in a cabinet that she barely fit in. Super tied up, not wearing anything. She didn't know it was us. I should have said something to her sooner. I thought she was unconscious until she freaked out." He rubbed the side of his face, then folded his arms again. "Nick's kind of a Boy Scout sometimes, so he had what we needed, but it took forever to get her loose." He shook his head angrily. "Cabinet was tiny. She could have died."

Jeffrey had nothing to say except for a vicious string of profanity, so he took all of that in without a word. He was glaring murder at Tommy, though he wasn't the object of his anger. He tightened his fingers around the handles of his crutches so that he wouldn't fling them at the wall. If Dexter had wanted to let Skye go, why the hell did it have to be like that? Jeffrey hadn't been there to see it, he'd already believed that she was dead. Dexter had had no reason to treat her like that. He didn't have a single shred of humanity left.

"It was disgusting. All of it. I could kill that guy," said Tommy. He was practically spitting venom.

"Get in the damn line," Jeffrey muttered. If he were ever to have the opportunity to, he would kill Dexter for what he'd done to Skye alone. His own abuse wouldn't be so much as an afterthought.

Jeffrey was getting sick of tense silence. He was about ready to hint that Tommy should go.

"She's lucky to have you," said Tommy.

Jeffrey repositioned his crutches so they didn't grind quite as painfully into his ribs. "I don't need the pep talk."

Tommy drummed his fingers nervously on his arms. "Okay. Sorry."

Jeffrey laughed through his nose, a little amused by how edgy the guy was. "Thanks, though."

"Sure." Tommy loosened up a fraction. "And hey, if you're ever tired of Penderwicks, I guess I'm here for you."

That made Jeffrey laugh out loud. "How obligated did you feel to say that?" It was kind of a rude question, but he didn't mean for it to be.

Tommy seemed to pick up on that. He smiled, looking like he'd been caught with his hand in a cookie jar. "Pretty fucking obligated, actually. But it's true. Just so you know."

"We'll see. I might take you up on that," said Jeffrey. That didn't scare him as much as talking to everyone else. It still did (he just as easily might never say anything to Tommy), but if he decided he was ready to open up, it wasn't the worst place to start. Tommy wasn't emotionally invested in him; it made Jeffrey feel less guilty about burdening him. Then again, "I got tortured, let's talk about it" wasn't the greatest of conversation starters, and Jeffrey had a feeling he was going to be seeing a lot more of Tommy Geiger. It might be an equally bad idea. He did appreciate the sentiment, however reluctant it was. He didn't feel pressured either way.

"Well I'm going to stop bugging you so you can talk to your mom or whatever," said Tommy. "What kind of sandwich do you want?"

"Nothing sounds good, so whatever you're having."

"Cool. I'll leave it right there." Tommy pointed at some empty space on a bookshelf to Jeffrey's right. "You look like you might need it, so good luck. I'll see you later."

He was right. Jeffrey did need luck. He was tempted to let Alec handle everything. He'd done a decent job so far. Jeffrey sighed and knocked on the door before he changed his mind. It was a heavy conversation, but that was what made it so important to him. Better to get it over with.

Alec answered. He was shocked to find Jeffrey behind the door. He looked past him for someone else, and worry filled his eyes when he realized Jeffrey was alone. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing." Why did that have to be his first thought? "Could you maybe give us a minute?"

"Oh. Okay. Yeah, sure," said Alec.

As he passed him, Jeffrey said, "Hey, Dad?" He didn't call him that very often. It always got his attention.

"What's up?"

"I'm implementing an open door policy in this house."

Alec grinned widely. "You want to set a curfew too?"

"That's currently under advisement."

Alec pat Jeffrey's shoulder. He headed off down the hall, shaking his head as he laughed. Jeffrey glanced at his mother and his mouth twitched in a nervous smile. He shut the door behind him and heaved himself over to the closest chair.

Mrs. Tifton stayed standing. "I know what you're going to say."

"I doubt that."

If she heard him, she didn't let on. She had already decided how the conversation would go. She wrung her hands. "I think…I think you should live with your father."

"What?" Jeffrey stared at her. There was a time when he would have jumped at that opportunity, but not anymore. Things were different.

"I don't want you to feel trapped here. With me."

"Why would I?"

Mrs. Tifton paced in a small circle and chewed on her nails. "You're closer to Alec, you have so much in common." She sighed and rubbed at her shoulder as though it would release the tension between them. "He didn't put Dexter in your life."

"Yeah, about that." Jeffrey tried to segue into his own thoughts on the matter, but his mother didn't let him finish.

"Jeffrey, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." Her face scrunched up as she started to sob. She rushed at him, falling to her knees in front of him. She clutched both of his hands and all but lay in his lap as she desperately pleaded with him to forgive her. She didn't know that he already had. He had forgiven his mother for Dexter the moment he had been dragged from his home. He'd thought that he had already seen her for the last time. There was no room for resentment after that; it had devastated him.

She clung to him so vehemently the tips of his fingers turned purple. He couldn't feel them anymore, but he let her hold them. "I'm sorry. This is all my fault. How could I—what kind of mother would—I didn't call the police. I could have prevented all of this. Why didn't I call the police? Oh god, baby, I'm so, so sorry."

"Stop," Jeffrey said gently.

Mrs. Tifton flinched and drew her hands away. He didn't sound it, but she was convinced he was angry with her. "Okay. I'll talk to Alec."

Jeffrey stretched his fingers. They ached. He leaned forward on his elbows to look her firmly in the face. "I don't want to live with Alec. Not all the time. I'll split houses like every kid with divorced parents."

"What?" Mrs. Tifton whispered. Her face was blotchy from crying.

"Come on, you're my mother. I love you. A psycho stepfather's not to change that."

She put her hand over her mouth and cried harder. "Oh, Jeffrey," she wailed.

He pulled down her hand and held it. "I wanted to tell you that I was angry with you, before. I've been bitter about Dexter for a long time." He had to pause to figure out the best way to phrase his thoughts. They were deeply buried; it took him a while to find them. "Do you know what it feels like to be eleven years old and tell your mother "if you marry this guy, I'm going to boarding school" and have her say "sure, you do that"? I loved my school, and I wanted to go. Then I met Alec, everything was great. But it still always felt like you chose him over me."

"I know. I know, but I—"

"The thing is," Jeffrey interrupted. He would not allow her to respond until he was completely done. "I said something to him that changed how I saw it. I said that you hated him, because you'll always pick me. You put me first."

Mrs. Tifton nodded as more tears fell. They were silent now.

Jeffrey swallowed. He felt the threat of tears himself. "Skye was gone. I didn't have her to focus on anymore. He was…" There was no need to sugarcoat it. His mother could see him, she wasn't blind. If Dexter had gloated about making him scream, then she already knew. His nightmares the previous day would have confirmed it. "He was torturing me and I—I just wanted my mom."

She shut her eyes as she battled another sob. When she opened them again, she said, "Mom?"

Jeffrey smiled. "Yeah. I kind of like it."

"Me too."

Jeffrey opened his arms to her and she leaned into his hug. She rubbed his back and held him like she was afraid of letting go.

"I should have called the police," she whispered.

"I shouldn't have antagonized him."

"You did nothing wrong. Nothing." She squeezed him harder. It stabbed pain through his ribs, but he liked it. "I don't know why I left you alone that night. It's such a big house. I didn't have to go."

"I shouldn't have let Skye come over. I knew she would upset you." Jeffrey was prepared to counter every one of his mother's reasons for taking blame. There were a thousand things he could have changed that would have made things different.

"Jeffrey—"

"That's my point. We could do this all day. Dexter's crazy. It's not your fault. I don't blame you. I never did, not for this."

Mrs. Tifton kissed his cheek and leaned away. She took his hand again, then her eyebrows furrowed in concern. "Why aren't you wearing your brace?" She looked a little longer and her lips parted as she inhaled a sharp gasp.

Jeffrey glanced down at the two-inch ring of scabbing and green bruises spun around his wrist. It was just another shackle he couldn't escape from. It bound him to Dexter. He pulled his arm out of her grasp and covered the abrasions with his hands. The majority of his ligature marks were covered by his long sleeves. His neck and face he could do nothing about, but he hid what he could. He wouldn't be wearing a t-shirt anytime soon.

"I will tell you what he did. Someday, just not yet. I'm not ready." If he promised her that out loud, then maybe he would eventually find the strength to be candid about it.

"That's alright. You don't have to be. I'm happy to wait, forever if you would like." Mrs. Tifton wiped her eyes and leaned on the arm of Jeffrey's chair. "Have you talked to Skye?"

"Yes. She knows all of it, or everything I remember, anyway."

"I'm glad." Mrs. Tifton attempted a smile, but it pained her. "She's…Skye is a good person."

"Wow," said Jeffrey. He was teasing; he knew his mother had radically changed her opinion of her – of the whole Penderwick family, it seemed. He supposed that came with the territory. It would be hard for Mrs. Tifton to find fault in anyone who wasn't harming him. "She's a lot like you, actually." He chuckled at that. "She'd kill me for saying it. She's less elitist of course, but I see it."

"I don't know about that, but I appreciate it. I know you think the world of her."

"Double wow," said Jeffrey.

"And I am working on my elitism." Mrs. Tifton smiled almost sheepishly. "Trying to."

Jeffrey laughed. "That's not going anywhere."

"You're probably right." Her face grew somber again. She brushed her thumb along the stitches in his cheek. "I'm—"

"If you say you're sorry one more time," Jeffrey warned.

"Sorry."

They both laughed. Jeffrey could relax. His relationship with his mother was finally looking up. The end of his song about her was laid out perfectly in his head. He only needed to play it and write it down. Batty had promised to help him with that. It was exactly what he needed to kickstart recuperation. He just might be fine after all.