"Why didn’t you tell the police who the criminal was? Why did you let Chelsea suffer? Are you even a man?"
Seeing the disappointment in their eyes, I turned my head away, unable to meet their gaze, and remained silent.
"To think I raised a son like you…" My father’s voice trembled with anger. "You’re nothing but a disgrace to me, Anthony!"
He then stormed out of the room. Meanwhile, my mother remained, but her attitude toward me was noticeably different from that moment on.
I didn’t try to explain myself.
...
The next morning, Zeke arrived early. This time, he didn’t beat or insult me like he had the day before.
Instead, it seemed like he had changed his approach.
"Anthony, you didn’t report to the police, right?" Zeke asked, his voice calm but with a hint of something unspoken.
I shook my head in response.
He let out a long sigh, running a hand through his hair. "Yesterday, we acted out of emotion. But you have to understand, Chelsea is my sister. We love her more than anything. We can’t stand seeing her like this. You get that, right?"
I nodded slowly. "Yes, I do."
"Good." Zeke sat down beside my bed and lit a cigarette, his eyes not quite meeting mine. "You don’t mind, do you?"