Cyril
Miller stood up and moved to block the path to the hallway. "Your father is likely at his desk right now, preparing a lie so beautiful you’ll almost want to believe it. He’ll tell you she forced herself on him. He’ll tell you he loves you."
He stepped closer, his voice dropping into a low, manipulative register. "Don't be a coward, Cyril. If you go back now, you’re telling him that he can do whatever he wants and you’ll always return. You’re telling him your pride has a price.” He placed his hand on my shoulder. “Let him suffer."
"I am not a coward," I hissed.
"Then prove it," Miller challenged. "Stay gone. Let the silence eat him alive. Let him wonder if you’ve gone to your mother's hometown, or to a man’s arm. That is the only way you win this game. You have to be the one to ho
