MidReal Story

My Dad Is A Bad Man

Mohamed Abdi

Scenario:this story is about high school and best friends and lies and cheating and self harm and profanity and love and drama and fights and alcohol and betrayal and family and loyalty and accidents and drug use and divorce and race and mental health and trauma and divorce and murder and police and my name is mohamed abdi and i am a angsty 15 years old teenager and i am mixed between my black father and my white mother and i have mulatto skin color and my mother julia abdi is 30 years old and she has blond hair and black eyes and my little half sister luna abdi she is 13 years old and she has a different mother named nicole watson and she is in prison because my father framed her for theft and she is 33 years old and my father is abdinur abdi and he is 30 years and he is tough and willing to kill for me and he has a dark past and luna and my mother julia abdi is white and she is a tough woman and she is 30 years old and she travels around the world as a photographer and author and my parents had me when they were both 15 years old and they are divorced and my father dates around and me and luna and my father to wellsbury new england to seek a normal life

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this story is about high school and best friends and lies and cheating and self harm and profanity and love and drama and fights and alcohol and betrayal and family and loyalty and accidents and drug use and divorce and race and mental health and trauma and divorce and murder and police and my name is mohamed abdi and i am a angsty 15 years old teenager and i am mixed between my black father and my white mother and i have mulatto skin color and my mother julia abdi is 30 years old and she has blond hair and black eyes and my little half sister luna abdi she is 13 years old and she has a different mother named nicole watson and she is in prison because my father framed her for theft and she is 33 years old and my father is abdinur abdi and he is 30 years and he is tough and willing to kill for me and he has a dark past and luna and my mother julia abdi is white and she is a tough woman and she is 30 years old and she travels around the world as a photographer and author and my parents had me when they were both 15 years old and they are divorced and my father dates around and me and luna and my father to wellsbury new england to seek a normal life

Mohamed Abdi

He is a 15yearold high school student in Wellsbury, New England. He is rebellious, loyal, and skeptical. Mohamed's parents divorced when he was young, and his father quickly remarried while his mother remained in Europe. His father, Abdinur, has a complicated relationship with him and his halfsister, Luna. Despite their chaotic upbringing, Mohamed tries to maintain a sense of normalcy. He struggles with trust and deals with the consequences of his father's actions.

Abdinur Abdi

He is Mohamed's father and a former Special Forces soldier. He is authoritarian, protective, and secretive. Abdinur has multiple relationships after separating from Julia and often brings unknown women to his home. His tumultuous past as a victim of human trafficking influences his aggressive demeanor. He provides for Mohamed financially but keeps him at arm's length due to his own emotional turmoil. His actions often lead to conflicts with the law and those around him.

Julia Abdi

She is Mohamed's mother and a professional photographer traveling the world. She is freespirited, independent, and detached. Julia never formally married Abdinur and chose not to settle in one place. She prioritizes her career over parental responsibilities, leaving Mohamed to navigate his teenage years largely alone. Her distant presence affects Mohamed's sense of belonging and stability. Despite their estranged relationship, she remains a significant figure in his life.

My name is Mohamed Abdi.

I'm 15 years old, a high school student living with my dad and my halfsister in Wellsbury, New England.

My mom is 30 years old.

She has blond hair, black eyes, and she is white.

My dad is also 30 years old.

He has dark hair, black eyes, brown skin, and he is originally from Somalia.

We are Muslims.

I have a halfsister who is 13 years old.

Her name is Luna Abdi.

She has a different mom named Nicole Watson.

She is also white and in prison for theft.

I have never met her because she was in prison since Luna was born.

My parents were both 15 years old when they had me.

They divorced three years after I was born, and my dad quickly remarried while my mom went back to Europe to travel and work as a photographer and author.

My dad, sister, and I just moved to Wellsbury.

We have a big house with three bedrooms and two bathrooms.

The master bedroom is huge and has a walk-in closet.

My room is big, and I have my own bathroom.

Luna's room is small but cozy.

We have a pool, a backyard, a living room, and a kitchen.

I like the house very much.

I'm currently unpacking my things.

I can hear voices from next door, so I go outside to see what it's all about.

There's a boy and a girl standing in their backyard.

The boy is gay; he has dark hair, brown eyes, and light skin.

He's wearing black shorts and a pink T-shirt.

He looks 16 years old.

The girl has black hair, brown eyes, and light skin too.

She has a belly button piercing and is wearing black shorts and a blue T-shirt.

She looks 14 years old.

"Hi," I say as I approach them.

"Hi," they both reply with smiles on their faces. "I'm Mohamed Abdi," I introduce myself.

"I'm Lucas Jackson, and this is my sister Sandra," the boy replies with an extended hand for me to shake.

I shake his hand firmly and then turn to his sister to do the same thing.

"Nice to meet you," Lucas says with a smile on his face.

"Yeah, nice to meet you too," I reply with a smile of my own.

"So you're new here?" he asks curiously as we walk towards our pool area together.

"Yeah, we just moved here yesterday," I reply as we stand by the edge of the pool.

"I'm from Chicago," I tell them.

"Chicago? Isn't it cold there?" he asks.

"Yeah, it's pretty cold," I reply with a shrug.

"So you're new here too?" he asks.

"Yeah, we just moved here yesterday," Sandra replies.

"Nice to meet you then," Lucas says with a smile on his face.

"Are you starting at Wellsbury High tomorrow?" he asks me.

"Yeah, I am," I reply.

"Me too. We're both sophomores," he says with a smile on his face.

"Me too," Sandra replies with a smile of her own.

"I'm gay," Lucas suddenly says out of nowhere.

"Oh, okay," I reply awkwardly.

"Whatever," Sandra says with a roll of her eyes.

"So you're going to be starting at Wellsbury High tomorrow?" he asks me again, ignoring his sister's attitude towards him.

"Yeah, I am. My dad said that we should go together and meet the principal first before we start classes," I reply. "You can come with me tomorrow morning. We can walk to school together. I'll introduce you to my friends. They're really popular and fun to hang out with," he says with a smile on his face.

"Okay, sounds good," I reply with a smile of my own.

"See you tomorrow then," he says as we walk towards our houses together.

"Yeah, see you tomorrow," I reply as we part ways.

The next morning, I wake up early and get ready for school.

I put on my black jeans, a white T-shirt, and a black hoodie over it.

I brush my teeth and wash my face before heading downstairs for breakfast.

My dad is already in the kitchen making pancakes when I enter the room.

I greet him and sit down at the table to wait for my food to be ready. "Good morning, son," he says as he flips the pancake over in the pan.

"Good morning, Dad," I reply with a smile on my face as I look down at my phone and scroll through social media for a bit until my food is ready.

"Good morning, Dad," I reply with a smile.

"Your sister is still sleeping," he informs me.

"That's no surprise," I reply with a shrug.

My dad makes the best blueberry pancakes in the world.

I can't wait to taste them again after so long.

"Here you go," he says as he places a plate of pancakes in front of me.

"Thanks, Dad," I reply with a smile before digging in.

I wolf down my food quickly and then grab my backpack before heading out the door to meet Lucas.

He's already waiting for me by our mailbox when I get outside.

He's wearing ripped jeans and a black T-shirt with a Pride pin on his chest.

"Hey," he says as I approach him.

"Hey," I reply with a smile before we start walking towards school together. We walk past identical suburban houses until we reach the brick building of Wellsbury High.

We walk into the building and go to our lockers.

Lucas opens his locker, and I stand next to him as he grabs his books for his first class.

"Hey, Lucas," a girl says as she approaches us.

She has brown hair, blue eyes, and light skin.

She's wearing a black skirt and a white shirt.

"Hey, Emily," Lucas replies with a smile on his face.

"Who's your friend?" she asks curiously.

"This is Mohamed Abdi. He just moved here from Chicago," he introduces me to her.

"Hi," I say with a smile on my face.

"Hi," she replies with a smile of her own before turning back to Lucas.

"Where's Mia?"

Lucas asks her.

"She's coming," Emily replies before walking away to her class.

"Who's Mia?" "She's my best friend. She's a singer and guitarist in a band. She sings pop and rock music," he tells me with a smile on his face.

"She sounds cool," I reply with a smile of my own as we walk towards our first class together.

As we walk down the hallways, I notice how everyone is staring at me as we pass by them.

I guess it's because I'm new here and they don't know who I am yet.

We reach our first class, which is English literature, and take our seats in the back of the classroom.

The teacher walks in and starts talking about the course outline for the semester when someone knocks on the door. The teacher gets up to open it, revealing Mia standing there with her guitar case in hand.

She has dark hair, brown eyes, light skin, and she is wearing a black dress with black boots on her feet.

She looks beautiful.

She walks into the classroom and takes the seat next to Lucas while giving him a kiss on the cheek before turning to me with a smile on her face.

"Hi," she says with an extended hand for me to shake.

I shake her hand firmly and then turn back to the teacher who is now talking about the homework assignments for this week.

After school, I meet up with Mia, Emily, Sasha, Logan, and Lucas in the schoolyard.

"So what are you doing tonight?"

Mia asks me as we walk together towards the parking lot.

"Nothing," I reply.

"Want to go on a date with me?"

Mia asks.

"Sure," I reply with a smile on my face.

Logan looks happy about it.

"That's my girl," he says with a smile on his face as he puts his arm around Mia's shoulders.

Just then, my dad pulls up in his car to pick me up from school.

"Is that your dad?"

Emily asks as she points towards the car.

"Yeah," I reply before waving at him to let him know that I'm here.

"Damn, he's fine," Emily says with a smirk on her face.

"He's hot," she adds before turning to Lucas for confirmation.

"Is that your dad?"

Lucas asks me.

"Yeah," I reply before getting into the car and closing the door behind me. "He's so hot," Emily says again as she looks at my dad through the window of the car.

"I know, right?" she adds before turning to Logan for confirmation.

"He's zaddy," Logan replies with a nod of his head in agreement.

I can feel myself blushing at their comments about my dad being hot.

I tell my dad to drive away quickly so that we can get out of here before they start embarrassing me even more.

We're sitting across from each other at Bella's Italian Restaurant.

I'm nervously adjusting my collar while Mia tells me about her band's upcoming gig at the school talent show.

The candlelight catches the silver rings on her fingers as she gestures, describing how they're going to play a punk cover of "Sweet Dreams."

When our pizza arrives, she laughs at how I fold my slices New York-style.

"You're weirdly specific," she teases.

I shrug and take a bite, feeling the gooey cheese stretch between my teeth.

We split the bill even though she insists on paying, and then she drives me home in her white Porsche Cayenne.

It was a sweet sixteen gift from her dad, she explains.

When we pull up outside my house, she leans over the center console and kisses me quickly, her lips soft against mine.

I watch her taillights disappear down our street, my lips still tingling.

Before I can even savor the moment, Dad bursts out of the front door like a jack-in-the-box, pumping his fist in the air.

"That's my boy!" he shouts across our front lawn.

A few neighbors peek out their windows at the commotion.

My face burns with embarrassment.

"Dad, grow up," I mutter, shouldering past him into the house.

I storm upstairs to my bedroom and flop onto my bed.

My phone buzzes.

It's Mia: "Thanks for a great night Mohamed."

I lie there replaying her text over and over in my head.

I'm in my room, still trying to process the date I just went on with Mia, when I hear a knock on my window.

I look over and see Sandra Jackson, Lucas's sister, peeking in through the blinds.

She motions for me to come open the window.

I get up and do as she asks, wondering what she wants this late at night.

"Hey," she says as she climbs into my room through the window.

"So this is your bedroom?"

"Yeah," I reply, confused about why she's here.

"Why are you here?"

I ask her as she looks around my room.

Before I can react, she leans in and kisses me on the lips.

We end up having sex, and afterwards, she quickly gets dressed and says goodbye before climbing back out of my window.

The next morning, I see Sandra and her boyfriend Oliver standing together by their lockers.

She looks nervous, like she's worried I'll tell him about what happened between us.

I walk over to them casually and point out that Oliver's sneakers are untied.

He bends down to tie them, and I give Sandra a quick wink before walking away.

I join Mia, Lucas, Emily, Sasha, Michael, and Logan in the schoolyard.

"Hey," Mia says as I approach them.

"Hey," I reply with a smile on my face as I stand next to her.

"Thanks for last night," she says with a smile of her own.

"No problem," I reply before turning to the others.

"Hey guys," I say with a smile on my face as they all greet me back.

"So there's a party tonight in my basement," Sasha says as we stand there together.

"There will be drugs and alcohol," she adds with a smile on her face.

"Sounds fun," I reply with a nod of my head in agreement.

We're sitting at the kitchen table, eating spaghetti and meatballs.

Luna is picking at her food, while Dad is asking me about my plans for tonight.

"So, you're going to a party?"

Dad asks me as he takes a bite of his spaghetti.

"Yeah," I reply with a nod of my head in agreement.

"Whose party?"

He asks me before taking another bite of his spaghetti.

"Sasha's," I reply with a shrug of my shoulders.

"Who's Sasha?"

He asks me with a furrowed brow on his face.

"A friend from school," I reply before taking another bite of my spaghetti.

"Is she a good kid?"

He asks me as he looks at me with concern on his face.

"Yeah," I reply with a smile on my face as I think about how Sasha is always up for a good time.

"I'm sure it'll be fine," I add before taking another bite of my spaghetti.

"Okay, but you have to be home by midnight," Dad says as he takes another bite of his spaghetti.

I nod my head in agreement and continue eating.

"Can I go too?"

Luna asks as she looks up at Dad with pleading eyes on her face. "No, you're grounded," Dad replies firmly as he looks at her with disappointment on his face.

"But why?"

She whines as she crosses her arms over her chest and pouts her lips outwards in protest.

"Because you skipped school last week," Dad reminds her as he takes another bite of his spaghetti.

"That was one time!"

She protests as she slams her fork down onto the table in frustration.

"And that's why you're grounded," Dad says firmly as he looks at her with a serious expression on his face.

"But it's not fair!"

She whines again as she looks down at her plate of food with tears welling up in her eyes.

"I don't care if it's fair or not," Dad says firmly as he pushes his chair back from the table and stands up to leave the room.

"You're grounded, and that's final."

Luna looks up at him with anger on her face before turning to look at me with pleading eyes. "Please take me with you," she begs as she reaches out to grab my arm and squeeze it tightly in desperation.

"I can't," I reply regretfully as I shake my head no and pull away from her grasp.

"Dad said no."

Luna storms off to her room, slamming the door behind her, leaving an uneasy silence hanging over the table.

I scrape the last bits of sauce from my plate and excuse myself from the table.

I head upstairs to my room, digging through piles of half-unpacked moving boxes to find something decent to wear.

I settle on my favorite black hoodie and a pair of dark jeans.

I arrive at Sasha's house, the music thumping through the walls as I make my way down to the basement.

Sasha greets me with a beer in hand and a grin on her face.

"Welcome to the party," she says, gesturing towards the crowd of people dancing and laughing together.

I spot Lucas, Logan, Mia, Emily, and Michael huddled around a table playing beer pong.

They call me over to join them, and soon we're all laughing and competing against each other.

Mia passes me a joint, and we take turns inhaling deeply.

The smoke curls around us as we giggle and chat.

As the night wears on, I notice Sandra and Oliver walk in together, her eyes darting nervously towards me before she quickly looks away.

I decide to ignore her and focus on having fun with my friends instead.

The music shifts to a hip-hop beat, and Mia grabs my hand, pulling me onto the makeshift dance floor.

She presses her body against mine, moving her hips to the rhythm of the song.

I try to follow her lead, but the beer and weed are making it hard to keep up.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Logan and Lucas in the corner, their faces close together as they whisper and laugh.

Sasha is twirling alone by the speakers, her eyes closed as she lets the music take over her body.

Emily and Michael are slow dancing in the middle of the room, swaying to the fast beat of the music.

Mia turns around to face me, wrapping her arms around my neck and pressing her body against mine.

Her perfume fills my nose, mixed with the smell of sweat from dancing.

The music pulses through my body, and I can feel the bass vibrating in my chest.

Mia's face is inches from mine, her cheeks flushed from the heat of the room.

I can see the dim lighting reflecting off her shiny lips, and I can smell the mix of beer and weed on her breath.

My hands rest on her hips, guiding her movements as she sways to the beat of the music.

Her hands play with the hair at the nape of my neck, sending shivers down my spine.

The room tilts slightly from the alcohol in my system, making everything feel dreamlike and warm.

I stumble into my bedroom, the door slamming shut behind me.

I gulp down a glass of water from the nightstand, trying to quench my thirst.

Suddenly, the door swings open and Dad walks in, his face stern and his eyes narrowed.

"You're drunk," he states, his voice firm but controlled.

"I'll talk to you about it in the morning," he says before turning and walking out of the room.

I nod my head in agreement and shut the door behind him.

I collapse onto my bed, pulling the blankets up to my chin and closing my eyes.

The room spins around me as I drift off into a fitful sleep.

The next morning, I wake up with a pounding headache and dry mouth.

I reach for the glass of water on my nightstand, downing it in one gulp.

I stumble out of bed and stagger to the bathroom, barely making it to the toilet before I vomit up last night's drinks. After a quick shower, I change into some fresh clothes and make my way downstairs to the kitchen.

The smell of freshly brewed coffee wafts through the air, enticing me to pour myself a cup.

As I sip my coffee, I grab a couple of donuts from the box on the counter and head out the door to catch the bus to school.

At Wellsbury High, I meet up with Logan, Lucas, Emily, Sasha, Mia, and Michael by our lockers.

They all look at me with concern on their faces as they notice how pale I am.

"Are you okay?"

Logan asks as he puts his hand on my shoulder.

"Yeah," I reply with a weak smile on my face as I lean against my locker for support. "Just hungover from last night," I say before taking another sip of my coffee to try and clear my head.

"Come on," Lucas says as he grabs my arm and pulls me along with them towards class.

As we walk down the hallway, I can't shake the feeling that everything is about to change.

I drag my feet down the crowded hallway, trailing behind Lucas and Logan as they lead the way to Chemistry.

My head is pounding with each step, and the fluorescent lights overhead feel like needles piercing through my eyes.

As we pass by Sandra's locker, she quickly turns her back to us, avoiding eye contact.

Oliver, on the other hand, gives me a friendly wave, but I barely muster up a nod in return.

By the time we reach the classroom door, Mia has caught up to us, her concerned eyes scanning over my face as she touches my arm gently.

"Are you okay?" she whispers softly.

I nod weakly, forcing a small smile onto my lips.

"Are you okay?"

She asks, her voice filled with genuine concern.

"Yeah, just a little hungover," I reply with a chuckle, trying to brush it off.

"Well, if you need anything, let me know," she says before turning and heading into the classroom.

I take a deep breath and follow her inside, trying to focus on the lesson at hand despite the lingering effects of last night's party.

As I sit down in my seat, Lucas leans over and whispers in my ear.

"Looks like Mia wants another date," he teases with a smirk on his face.

I roll my eyes and shake my head, but I can't help but laugh at his comment.

I wake up from a dream where Mia and Sandra are fighting over me.

I'm sweating and my heart is pounding.

I look at my alarm clock and see that it's 6:30 AM.

I get out of bed and walk to the bathroom to brush my teeth.

When I come back, my dad is standing in my bedroom doorway with a cup of coffee in his hand.

"Get dressed," he says impatiently.

"We need to leave for school in 10 minutes."

I quickly get dressed and walk downstairs to the kitchen.

My dad hands me a $100 bill and tells me that it's for the sophomore sleepover tonight at Wellsbury High.

I put the money in my pocket and grab a granola bar from the counter before heading out the door with him.

At school, I pack my pajamas and sleeping bag into my backpack.

Sandra sits alone at her lunch table, not talking to anyone except for her boyfriend Oliver.

She only talks to him when she needs him for sex, but other than that, she ignores him completely. The sophomore sleepover starts at 5 PM in the gym.

There are tables set up with red punch, food, and loud music playing over the speakers.

Mia and I mingle with our friends while we wait for everyone else to arrive.

When I see Sandra walk in, I feel uneasy knowing that she's here too.

She was forced to come by her parents because they thought it would be good for her social life.

As the night unfolds, I realize that the tangled web of secrets and desires we've woven is about to unravel in ways none of us could have anticipated.

At the sophomore sleepover, I join Michael, Lucas, Logan, Emily, Mia, and Sasha on the dance floor.

The music pulses through the room as we move our bodies in unison.

We're laughing and joking around, having a great time together.

I take turns dancing with each of my friends, feeling like I belong here.

When the music shifts to a slow song, Mia takes my hand and pulls me into her arms.

We sway to the beat of the music, our bodies pressed against each other.

As we dance, I feel her warm breath on my neck, sending shivers down my spine.

I excuse myself from the dance floor and make my way to the bathroom.

When I open the door, I'm surprised to see Sandra sitting on the floor, smoking weed in the boys' bathroom.

I point out her mistake, but she shrugs it off, saying she doesn't care.

I ask her why she's not dancing with everyone else, and she claims to be too cool for it.

We laugh together as we mimic British accents from our favorite show, Bridgerton.

Sandra confides in me that her friend Lily died of brain cancer last year, which is why she doesn't like parties or crowds anymore.

"I'm sorry to hear that," I say, my voice softening as I sit down beside her.

"Thanks," she replies, exhaling a cloud of smoke. "It's just hard to pretend everything's okay sometimes."

"I get it," I nod, feeling the weight of her words. "If you ever need to talk, I'm here."

We step outside into the early morning sunlight, the cool air refreshing after a night of dancing and laughter.

Joe, the owner of the restaurant across the street, is handing out burritos to everyone.

Mia offers me one, but Lucas snatches it from her hands before I can take it.

"I need this more than he does," he jokes, earning a laugh from all of us.

I turn to Mia and she asks if I want to be her official boyfriend.

I nod in agreement, feeling a rush of excitement.

Sandra watches us from across the room, her expression hardening with jealousy.

Our friends gather around us, congratulating us on our new relationship.

I wrap my arms around Mia, pulling her close in front of our friends.

The morning sun streams through the windows of the school, casting a warm glow over the scene.

I whisper in her ear, "This is going to be our year."

She squeezes me back tightly, her perfume mingling with the smell of breakfast burritos.

We're sitting in Lucas and Sandra's parents' house, huddled around Lucas's laptop.

Lucas, Logan, and Michael are all crowded around me as we watch a porn video.

"Wow, he's going so fast," Michael says with wide eyes.

"And it's so gross," Logan adds, scrunching up his face.

"I don't know how they do it," I say, shaking my head.

Michael turns to us and says, "Emily and I waited two years before we had sex."

"Really?" we all ask in unison.

"Yeah, but we did other things before that," he replies with a sly smile.

"Like what?"

Logan asks curiously.

"Like o#l s#x," Michael explains matter-of-factly.

"You mean you lick her v##a?"

Lucas asks incredulously.

"Yeah, it's not that bad once you get used to it," Michael shrugs.

"Ew, no thanks," Lucas says, grimacing at the thought of it.

"I'm glad I'm gay."

"Wait, you j###f thinking about Mia?"

Michael asks me suddenly.

I pause for a moment before answering, "I don't know...I find it weird."

Logan nods in agreement, "Yeah, I feel the same way."

We all burst out laughing at our own awkwardness.

Two weeks into dating Mia, I'm lying in bed, texting her.

But she's not responding.

I send her another message, and still nothing.

Feeling frustrated, I take a picture of myself shirtless and send it to her.

I see the three dots indicating she's typing, but no response comes.

My worry turns to anger.

I send the same picture to Sandra, asking if it's s#y.

She replies with a string of heart eyes emojis and says yes.

We start sexting, and before long, she suggests we m####e together over the phone.

She sends me a picture of her hand in her u####r, and I do the same with my hand in my b##s.

After we're done, she texts "goodnight Mohamed."

I arrive at the battle of the bands with Michael, Logan, and Lucas.

We make our way backstage, where Mia is sitting on a couch.

I approach her and mention the shirtless picture I sent her last night.

She apologizes, saying she's been busy.

Feeling insecure, I tell her it seems like she doesn't like me anymore.

She looks surprised and starts to respond, but before she can say anything, Emily interrupts and tells her it's time to perform.

I join Michael, Logan, and Lucas in the audience as Mia takes the stage with Emily and Sasha.

I shift uncomfortably as Sandra enters the crowded venue, our eyes meeting briefly before she looks away.

The same shirtless photo I sent to both girls weighs on my mind as I stand with Michael, Lucas, and Logan near the stage.

The lights dim, and Mia takes the mic, her presence commanding the room.

As she announces their original song is dedicated to me, my heart races.

Through the first few chords, I notice Sandra's intense stare from across the room.

She crosses her arms, watching my reaction as Mia starts singing.

I stand near the stage, my heart pounding in my chest as Mia, Emily, and Sasha begin to play their instruments.

The crowd cheers and chants their names, but my eyes are fixed on Sandra across the room.

Her arms are crossed, her stare intense and jealous.

As Mia's voice fills the room with the lyrics of "Boyfriend," I feel a mix of joy and guilt.

The song is a rock love song that Mia wrote specifically for me, and as she sings about how much I mean to her, I can't help but feel grateful for her love.

But at the same time, I know that Sandra is watching us from across the room, and I can't shake the feeling that she's angry with me.

As the song progresses, I steal a glance at Sandra, who quickly turns away from me.

I watch as she moves through the crowd, her body swaying to the music.

After the song is over, I walk backstage to congratulate Mia on her performance.

She thanks me and tells me that she's been busy with homework and writing songs for the band.

I apologize for thinking she was ignoring me and explain that I sent her the shirtless photo because I felt insecure.

She reassures me that she likes me and finds me attractive, then kisses me passionately.

As we kiss, I can see Sandra watching us from across the room, her eyes filled with jealousy.

Lucas, Logan, and Michael smile at us as they watch our kiss.

I walk the dark streets alone, deliberately ignoring Sandra's text notification.

The cool night air helps clear my head after the intensity of Mia's performance.

When I reach home, I find Dad and Luna lounging on our worn leather couch watching TV.

Luna's pale face glows in the screen's light as Dad mutes the show to ask about the concert.

I keep my answer brief, mentioning Mia's victory while avoiding details about the backstage kiss or Sandra's jealous stares.

Two weeks later, on October 31, 2016, I'm getting ready to meet Mia's family.

I walk down the street to their mansion, feeling nervous about meeting her parents.

As I approach the door, Mia greets me with a smile and invites me inside.

She introduces me to her parents and her college-aged brother.

Her parents give me a tour of their house, showing off their pool and multiple bedrooms.

The dining room has a long table that can seat at least 20 people.

As we walk outside, I notice three expensive cars parked in the driveway: a Porsche, a Ferrari, and a Range Rover.

Mia's parents ask about my family, and I struggle to describe our chaotic life without revealing too much.

At the dining table, I shift uncomfortably in my chair as Mia's parents press for more details about my life.

When they discover I speak multiple languages, Mrs. Chen leans forward eagerly.

"Really? Can you say something in French?"

I hesitate for a moment before responding, "J'espère que vous m'aimez et c'est bizarre."

Mia giggles at my awkward attempt to say "I hope you like me and it's weird."

Her father nods approvingly, his eyes lighting up with interest.

"So, where is your mother?" he asks, changing the subject.

I take a deep breath and explain that my mom, Julia, is a photographer who travels frequently for work.

She's currently in France, but she'll be back in a few weeks.

I also mention that my mom and dad got divorced when I was 7 years old because they were too young to have a child.

They had me when they were 15, and my mom wanted to focus on her career.

My dad had another child, Luna, with Nicole Watson when he was 17.

Nicole is currently in prison for theft.

I assure them that my dad takes good care of us financially, and they nod thoughtfully.

"That's a lot," Mrs. Chen says softly, her eyes filled with sympathy.

I nod, taking a sip of water from my glass.

"Yeah, but it's my life," I reply, feeling the weight of my words settle around the table.

After dinner, Mia and I go upstairs to change into our costumes for the party.

She puts on a vintage dress and a beret, transforming into Bonnie from Bonnie and Clyde.

I wear suspenders and a newsboy cap, completing my Clyde look.

We get into Mia's Porsche and drive to Sasha's house.

The tension from dinner still lingers in the air as we make our way to the basement.

The music is loud, with heavy bass vibrating through the room.

Lucas greets us, dressed as a vampire, and hands us red cups filled with vodka punch.

Emily, wearing a witch costume, pulls Mia onto the dance floor.

I look around and spot Sandra across the room in a cheerleader outfit, staring at me intensely.

Logan, dressed as a zombie football player, suggests we play Seven Minutes in Heaven.

After the backflip, I sit down, dizzy from the alcohol.

Mia holds my hands, trying to comfort me as the crowd cheers around us.

I look up and see Sandra watching us from across the room, her expression unreadable.

The music continues to play, and Mia leans in close to me, whispering words of encouragement.

After dropping Lucas off, I help him to bed.

I make sure he drinks water and lies on his right side.

Sandra enters the room, and I apologize for avoiding her after sending the shirtless picture.

I explain that I was afraid our friends would find out about it.

She tells me it's cool and that we're still friends.

I say goodbye to her and walk next door to my house.

Luna is asleep, and Dad is in his room with the door closed.

I stand in the dark hallway, feeling the weight of my choices and the uncertainty of what comes next.

The next morning, my dad and I wake up to find Luna stabbed Evie with a pencil at school.

We both look at each other, shocked by the news.

I turn to my dad and say, "Luna needs therapy."

He shakes his head and replies, "Therapy is for rich white people. Luna is fine."

I argue back, "But she stabbed someone with a pencil! That's not normal."

My dad cuts me off, "Mohamed, stop. I said she's fine."

That night, on my second date with Mia, we go to a restaurant in downtown Los Angeles.

We laugh and talk as we enjoy our food.

After dinner, we get into her red Porsche and continue talking and laughing.

After my date with Mia, I'm sitting in the school courtyard with Michael during lunch break.

I tell him about Luna stabbing Evie with a pencil and how Dad refuses to get her therapy.

Michael looks concerned, his eyebrows furrowing as he listens.

"That's not good," he says, shaking his head.

"I know," I reply, feeling the weight of my worries.

"Maybe you should talk to your dad again," Michael suggests.

"I've tried," I say, feeling frustrated.

"He just won't listen."

Michael nods sympathetically, his eyes filled with understanding.

We sit in silence for a moment, watching the other students walk by.

Suddenly, Lucas and Emily join us at our table.

Lucas looks upset, his eyes red and puffy.

"What's wrong?" I ask him, feeling concerned.

He takes a deep breath before answering, "Logan broke up with me."

Emily nods in agreement, her eyes filled with sadness.

"I'm so sorry, Lucas," she says softly.

Lucas shakes his head, his voice cracking as he speaks.

"It's not your fault. It's mine. I got drunk last night and sent him 20 texts asking why he didn't want to be my boyfriend anymore. He told me to stop and that he needed space. So I sent him more texts saying that I would kill myself if he didn't want to be my boyfriend anymore. He said that was it and broke up with me." Lucas starts crying, his body shaking as he sobs.

I feel bad for him and try to comfort him by putting my arm around his shoulders.

Emily does the same, and Michael joins us for a group hug.

"It's okay," I say softly, trying to reassure him.

"There are plenty of other fish in the sea."

Lucas shakes his head, his voice filled with despair.

"There's no one else like Logan. He's perfect."

We try to cheer him up by telling him that Logan is not perfect and that there are other guys out there who would love to be his boyfriend.

But Lucas is too upset to listen to us and continues to cry into his hands. We spend the rest of the afternoon at Café Bean trying to cheer Lucas up.

We buy him a latte and some pastries, but he doesn't touch them.

He just sits there crying into his latte while we try to comfort him.

As the sun sets and the café empties, Lucas finally looks up, his eyes red but determined, and whispers, "I need to find myself before I find someone else."

We all nod in agreement, knowing that he's right.

I enter the house to find Dad in the kitchen, humming while layering pasta sheets for lasagna.

The aroma of tomato sauce and melted cheese fills the air, making my stomach growl with anticipation.

My phone buzzes in my pocket, and I pull it out to see a text from Lucas: "There are flames in your garden."

I look out the window and see an orange glow.

I rush to the back door with Dad behind me.

There's Luna, staring at the flames she's created with a silver lighter.

The roses Mom planted years ago curl and blacken.

Dad wrestles with the garden hose while I grab Luna's shoulders.

"This isn't normal," I shout, but she just stares at the flames, expressionless.

Dad finally extinguishes the fire, leaving our garden a charred wasteland.

"It's okay," he says, patting Luna on the head.

"Dad, this isn't okay," I insist, my voice rising with frustration.

He sighs, glancing at the scorched earth, "She's just acting out. She'll grow out of it."

"No, Dad," I say firmly, "she needs help before something worse happens."

I sit with Lucas in his bedroom, listening to him sob about Logan between playing rounds of Mario Kart.

He shows me old photos on Instagram, detailing every perfect date and shared joke.

A text from Dad interrupts our session: "Come home now."

I walk into our kitchen to find Dad holding hands with a blonde woman in an expensive suit.

"This is Susan Goldberg, the mayor," he announces.

She smiles professionally, her eyes darting past us to the burnt backyard visible through the window.

Luna slouches at the table, picking at black ash under her fingernails.

Susan asks about us, and I introduce myself and Luna mechanically.

Susan leans forward, her voice calm but firm, "I've heard about the incidents, and I'm here to help."

Dad frowns, his grip tightening on Susan's hand, "We don't need help. Luna's just going through a phase."

Luna finally looks up, her voice barely a whisper, "I don't want to hurt anyone anymore."

Susan nods, her eyes filled with compassion, "I'm here to help you, Luna. We can get you the support you need."

I sneak into Dad's bedroom while he talks to Susan in the living room.

I kneel on the floor and use a knife to pry up two floorboards.

Inside, I find a box wrapped in black cloth.

I unwrap it and find a stack of old photos of Dad at my age, wearing a gang jacket labeled "The Devils" with a devil logo.

There's also a gun loaded with bullets.

I examine them closely when I hear footsteps approaching.

Dad enters the room, gun aimed at me, "Why are you going through my things?"

I hold up the gun and jacket, "What are these?"

He lowers his gun and replaces the items in the box before leaving the room.

I follow him out, demanding answers, "Dad, you need to explain this."

He pauses at the doorway, his voice low and strained, "It's my past, Mohamed. A past I hoped you'd never have to know."

"But why keep it hidden?" I press, feeling a mix of anger and confusion.

He turns to face me, his eyes filled with a mix of sadness and determination, "Because I want a better life for you. A life free from violence and pain."

I follow Dad down the hallway, my hands still shaking from our confrontation.

He walks into the kitchen where Susan and Luna are still talking.

Susan's voice is calm and soothing, while Luna's responses are barely audible.

Dad pours himself a cup of coffee, his hands steady despite the tension in the room.

I linger in the doorway, watching them as Susan discusses therapy options for Luna.

My mind keeps drifting back to the loaded gun I found in Dad's bedroom.

The weight of it felt heavy in my hands, and the thought of it being used scares me.

When Dad catches my eye, his face hardens with a warning look.

I grab my phone from the counter and retreat to my room, closing the door behind me.

I sit on my bed and type out a message to Lucas about what just happened with Dad.

But before I hit send, I delete it.

Sitting on my bed, I stare at the knife from my desk drawer.

My hands shake as I grip the handle.

The cold metal presses against my wrist, followed by a sharp sting.

Blood trickles down my arm as I make three quick cuts.

The physical pain drowns out thoughts of Dad's gun, Luna's problems, and my complicated feelings towards Sandra and Mia.

After a few minutes, I clean the wounds with tissues and hide the bloody knife in my bottom drawer beneath old school papers.

I hear Dad knock on my door, calling me for dinner.

I open the door, trying to hide my trembling hands.

Dad looks at me with a mix of concern and weariness, "Everything okay?"

I nod, forcing a smile, "Yeah, just needed some time to think."

I sit at the kitchen counter, watching Dad mix cake batter while humming "Happy Birthday."

Luna hovers near the counter, her eyes fixed on the chocolate frosting.

When Dad mentions inviting my friends for a proper Sweet Sixteen celebration, my stomach turns.

Images of last weekend's drunk hookup with Sandra in Sasha's basement flash through my mind.

I force myself to smile and nod as Dad lists party ideas - decorations, catering, music.

Luna grabs a slice of cake before it's fully cooled, and Dad laughs.

I check my phone, seeing texts from Mia about meeting later.

Luna looks up from her cake, her voice barely above a whisper, "Mohamed, are you okay? You seem... different."

I glance at Dad, then back at Luna, trying to keep my voice steady, "Just a lot on my mind lately."

And dad sets down the mixing bowl, his expression softening as he looks between us, I am here for you, both of you. Whatever it is, we'll face it together."

I sit in the living room, surrounded by birthday decorations and the hum of conversation.

Lucas arrives first, holding a wrapped gift and flashing his usual charming smile.

Michael walks in next, carrying a bag of snacks and wearing a bright orange t-shirt that clashes with his green hair.

Mia is the last to arrive, carrying a small cake box and looking radiant in a yellow sundress.

Everyone seems excited for the party, but I can barely focus on their chatter.

My mind keeps drifting back to tonight's plans - getting drunk at Sasha's house, maybe hooking up with Sandra again.

The thought sends a thrill through me, but I push it aside as Dad enters the room with a tray of drinks.

He sets it down on the coffee table and looks around at my friends, "Thanks for coming. I know Mohamed was hoping for a big party, but with everything going on, we decided to keep it small."

Lucas raises his glass, "Well, happy birthday, man. Sixteen is gonna be a wild ride."

I force a smile and nod as everyone clinks their glasses together.

Dad clears his throat and gestures towards the front door, "Before we get started, I have one more surprise."

We all follow him outside to find a brand new Honda Civic parked in the driveway.

My friends gasp in amazement as Dad hands me a set of shiny keys.

"Happy birthday," he says with a wide smile. I stare at the car in disbelief, my mind racing with all the possibilities - late-night drives with Sandra, road trips with my friends, freedom from relying on public transportation.

"Thanks," I manage to say as Dad pats me on the shoulder.

We head back inside for cake and presents.

I open gifts from my friends - a new video game from Lucas, a book of poetry from Michael, and a handmade necklace from Mia.

After cake and presents, I tell Dad that my friends and I are heading out to dinner at a nearby restaurant.

He nods and hands me the car keys with a knowing look in his eyes.

I grip the steering wheel of the new Honda, still shiny with that new car smell.

Lucas claims shotgun while Michael and Mia pile into the back.

My hands shake slightly as I adjust the mirrors, remembering that I promised to meet Sandra at Sasha's house later.

Mia leans forward from the back seat, her perfume filling the car.

"Let's cruise down Main Street," she suggests, her voice filled with excitement.

I nod, carefully backing out of the driveway as Dad watches from the porch.

The engine purrs to life as we roll past familiar houses and quiet streets.

At Sasha's basement party, we drink heavily and play drinking games.

Lucas and Michael try to convince me to do a keg stand, but I decline.

Sasha, Mia, and Emily dance in the corner to loud music.

I join them, swaying my hips to the beat.

The night blurs together as we drink more and laugh loudly.

I remember kissing Sandra in a dark corner, feeling her lips against mine and her hands on my waist.

But the rest of the night is a haze of alcohol and music.

The morning after my Sweet Sixteen, I head to the DMV with my dad.

I don't have my license yet, but I'm determined to pass the test.

I take the written test first, answering questions about road signs and traffic laws.

After passing, I move on to the practical driving test.

My dad sits in the passenger seat as I drive around the block, following all the rules.

When I return to the DMV, they hand me a temporary ID with my photo and name - Mohamed Abdi.

I smile widely as I show it to my dad.

"Congratulations," he says, patting me on the shoulder.

We head home in our new car, me gripping the steering wheel tightly.

As we pull into the driveway, Sandra steps out of her own car and waves at us.

I walk her to the door after she gives me her birthday gift.

In the hallway, I thank her again for the portrait, feeling the weight of our recent interactions.

She smiles, but her eyes betray a hint of sadness.

As she leaves, I notice Dad watching us from the kitchen, his expression unreadable.

I retreat to my room and place the portrait on my desk.

Sitting on my bed, I pull out my phone and stare at Mia's unanswered texts.

The silence from her gnaws at me.

I set the phone aside, knowing some decisions can't be postponed any longer.

I'm sitting in English class when commotion erupts in the hallway.

Through the classroom window, I spot my mom's distinctive leather jacket and platinum blonde hair.

My heart races as I bolt from my desk, ignoring the teacher's protests.

Mom catches me in a tight hug, her camera equipment clattering against her back.

Mia approaches cautiously with my forgotten jacket, and I make awkward introductions.

As Mom and I head to her parked Harley, Sandra appears, commenting on my motorcycle skills from our secret rides.

Mom's eyes dart between us, catching our lingering eye contact.

I lead Mom through our front door, watching Dad's face shift from shock to forced politeness.

Luna bounces excitedly on the couch as Mom pulls out her camera, spreading travel photos across our coffee table.

The images show her meditating with monks in Nepal, tracking polar bears in Greenland, and exploring ancient temples in Vietnam.

When I mention Dad dating Susan, Mom's eyes flicker with something unreadable.

She asks about Susan's character while examining a photo of mist-covered mountains.

Dad responds stiffly, defending his relationship.

Mom raises an eyebrow, her voice calm but probing, "And how does Mohamed feel about all this?"

I shift uncomfortably, glancing at Dad before replying, "It's... different, but I guess I'm getting used to it."

Luna chimes in, her voice unexpectedly firm, "We just want everyone to be happy, right?"

We all lie in bed together, Dad and me crammed onto my twin mattress while Mom occupies his room down the hall.

It's a strange arrangement, but it makes me bold enough to ask him about Susan and my secret hope that he and Mom will get back together.

"I know you're with Susan now," I say into the darkness, "but I want Mom to stay."

Dad shifts uncomfortably beside me, his voice muffled by the pillow, "Maybe."

He pauses, clearly not wanting to discuss it.

"Go to sleep."

I stare at the ceiling, listening to his breathing even out, wondering if Mom's return could actually fix our broken family.

The next morning, as we sit around the breakfast table, Mom breaks the silence, "I didn't come back just for a visit."

Dad looks up from his coffee, his eyes narrowing slightly, "What do you mean?"

Mom takes a deep breath, her gaze steady, "I'm thinking of staying for good."

I sit at the dinner table, watching Mom and Susan bond over travel stories.

Mom strums her ukulele, playing "My Son," a song from when she and Dad were my age.

Susan compliments Mom's Everest climb, calling it "badass."

Dad and I exchange confused glances as the women laugh together.

Luna grins, enjoying the unexpected harmony.

I pass the mashed potatoes, trying to focus on the food instead of the awkward tension between Dad and Mom.

I follow Mom downstairs, her leather jacket and heavy boots clomping on the steps.

Dad stands in the kitchen, his arms crossed, "You're going out? It's late."

Mom leans against the counter, a mischievous glint in her eye, "It's a concert. Satin Souls."

Dad frowns, "They're not even that good."

Mom shrugs, "Mohamed loves them. We're going."

Dad sighs, "Fine. Just bring him back before midnight."

We ride Mom's motorcycle to the venue, the wind whipping through my hair.

Inside, we have VIP access and stand backstage as the band plays five songs.

Mom and I laugh and dance together, feeling alive.

As the final chord echoes, Mom turns to me with a knowing smile, "This is just the beginning."

We walk into the kitchen, still buzzing from the concert energy.

Dad sits at the counter, a beer in one hand and the other drumming a slow rhythm on the granite.

He looks up at us, his expression tense despite his casual tone, "So, how was the show?"

Mom leans against the counter, her eyes sparkling, "They were amazing. Mohamed, tell your dad about it."

I launch into a detailed account of the concert, describing each song and the electric atmosphere.

Mom listens intently, nodding along as I speak.

Dad sips his beer silently, his gaze fixed on some point beyond us.

I sit at the kitchen table, staring at my reflection in the polished surface.

The room is quiet except for the sound of Dad's spoon clinking against his bowl.

He's been acting strange since I got back from the concert with Mom.

I can tell he wants to say something, but he's holding back.

I look up from my book, meeting his gaze.

He sets down his spoon and clears his throat, "Mohamed, we need to talk."

I nod, closing my book and giving him my full attention.

He leans forward, his voice low and serious, "It's about Sandra."

My heart skips a beat as I realize where this is going.

"Sandra?"

I repeat, trying to sound innocent.

"Yes, Sandra," he says, his tone firm but controlled.

"What's going on between you two?"

"Nothing," I reply quickly, trying to deflect suspicion.

"Don't lie to me," he snaps, slamming his hand on the table.

"I know what I saw. She was climbing out your window this morning."

I swallow hard, feeling caught red-handed.

"It was just one time," I admit, hoping to minimize the situation.

"Just one time?" he repeats incredulously.

"How many times has she snuck into your room?"

I hesitate, unsure how much to reveal.

"A few times," I mumble finally. "A few times?" he echoes angrily.

"How could you do this to Mia? She's your girlfriend."

I sigh, feeling trapped in a web of guilt and deception.

"It just happened," I say weakly.

"You're lying to both girls," he accuses, his voice rising with each word.

"No, it's not like that," I protest feebly.

But Dad isn't listening anymore; he's too busy ranting about how disappointed he is in me and how I'm ruining my life with reckless decisions.

Mom walks into the kitchen just as Dad is reaching a crescendo in his tirade.

She looks at me sympathetically before turning her attention to Dad, "Calm down, honey. It's not the end of the world."

Dad spins around to face her, his anger still simmering just below the surface, "You're not helping."

Mom holds up her hands defensively, "I'm not taking sides. But maybe we should focus on finding a solution rather than placing blame."

Dad scoffs, "A solution? There is no solution. Mohamed needs to stop seeing Sandra."

I step into my parents' bedroom and freeze.

Dad is asleep, n##d under the covers.

Mom stares back at me, her eyes wide with surprise.

I stand there for what feels like an eternity, taking in the scene before me.

The evidence of their affair is undeniable.

I turn and run to my room, locking the door behind me.

Mom p##s on the wood, pleading with me to talk to her.

But I can't.

I sit on my bed, the knife hidden under my pillow.

The window creaks open, and Sandra climbs in.

She stands there for four minutes before speaking.

"Hey."

I quickly hide the knife under my pillow and ask what she's doing here.

Sandra asks if I was cutting myself, but I deny it.

I tell her that my father was right about us - the sexual tension and secrets aren't healthy.

Sandra confesses she thinks she loves me, but I reject her, calling her out for sneaking around like she did with Oliver.

I sit in first period, unable to focus on the lesson.

My phone buzzes with texts from Lucas about Sandra's accident.

He explains that she crashed her Kawasaki into a guardrail at 2 AM, hours after leaving my window.

The class erupts into whispers and speculation about the crash.

I remember my harsh words to Sandra - calling her pathetic, desperate, a cheater.

The guilt churns in my stomach as I stare blankly at my desk.

At lunch, Lucas describes finding Sandra unconscious on the road, her new black motorcycle destroyed.

He speaks matter-of-factly about her concussion and bruised ribs but doesn't mention the broken heart.

I watch from my window as Sandra returns home from the hospital.

She walks slowly, her face bruised and her arm in a sling.

She looks up and catches me staring, but I quickly duck away.

Later, Mom suggests we bring good vibes to Lucas and Sandra's family next door with a homemade dinner.

We make pasta, red sauce, and meatballs.

At their house, Tom and Elodie are serving steaks.

We all sit down to eat, the atmosphere tense but polite.

As we talk, I struggle to look at Sandra, guilt gnawing at me over my harsh words before her accident.

I excuse myself from the table and climb the stairs.

My heart pounds as I approach Sandra's room.

The door is half-open, and I can see her sleeping form.

Her arms and face are bruised, and my stomach twists with guilt.

Suddenly, Oliver appears behind me, carrying Sandra's history books.

He places them on her desk without waking her.

Then he turns to me, his eyes knowing.

"Do you like her?"

I can't lie.

"Yes."

He nods, then leans closer, his voice barely audible, "She's bad for you. She'll destroy you."

He walks away, leaving me stunned.

I grab his arm, whispering urgently, "Please don't tell anyone."

Oliver pauses, looking at me with a mix of pity and resolve, "I won't, but you need to figure this out before it's too late."

I sit at my desk, staring at the math homework in front of me.

The numbers blur together, and I can't focus on the problems.

I hear footsteps outside my room and look up to see Mom standing in the doorway.

She smiles softly and walks over to sit on my bed.

"I slept with your dad two nights ago," she says, her voice barely above a whisper.

My heart skips a beat as I process her words.

"Mom, what are you doing? You're messing things up with Susan."

She shakes her head, "No, Mohamed. Your dad still loves me. He wants us to be a family again."

I frown, confused by her words.

"But what about Susan?"

Mom sighs, "He'll break up with her. We just need to give him some time."

I stare at her, feeling overwhelmed by the situation.

"Does this mean we're becoming a family again?"

Mom nods, a smile spreading across her face.

"But it's not that simple," she continues, her voice tinged with uncertainty.

I glance down at my hands, feeling the weight of her words, "What do you mean?"

She hesitates, then looks me in the eye, "Your dad's torn, Mohamed. He needs to make his own choice."

I nod, understanding her words.

She stands up and walks over to me, wrapping her arms around me in a tight hug.

"I love you, Mohamed," she whispers into my ear.

"I love you too, Mom," I reply, holding her close.

As we pull away from each other, I look up at her with a smile, "Thank you for telling me the truth."

She smiles back, her eyes shining with tears, "I promise I'll always be honest with you."

We sit on the couch together, watching TV and sharing a bowl of popcorn.

Mom reaches over and squeezes my hand, "I'm glad we're talking again."

I nod, feeling a sense of relief wash over me, "Me too."

I slip out of Lucas's room, telling Michael and Emily that I need to use the bathroom.

But instead of heading downstairs, I find myself in front of Sandra's bedroom door.

I pause for a moment, listening to the muffled voices from inside.

Then I knock softly, hoping she'll hear me.

The door creaks open, and Sandra stands before me, her face pale and her eyes sunken.

She looks like she hasn't slept in days.

"Hey," she whispers, her voice barely audible.

I step inside, closing the door behind me.

Sandra sits on the edge of her bed, her legs dangling off the side.

I stand there awkwardly for a moment before sitting down next to her.

"How are you feeling?" I ask gently.

Sandra shrugs, looking down at her hands.

"Like shit," she admits quietly.

I nod sympathetically, knowing exactly what she means.

"I'm sorry," I say finally, breaking the silence between us.

"For what?" she asks, looking up at me with confusion in her eyes. "For everything," I reply honestly.

"For being so harsh two nights ago. For not being there for you when you needed me most."

Sandra sighs deeply, her shoulders sagging under the weight of my words.

"It's not your fault," she says softly, placing a hand on my arm.

"I was stupid to crash my motorcycle like that. It was an accident waiting to happen."

I shake my head, feeling guilty for my part in it all.

"No, it's not your fault," I insist firmly.

"If I hadn't said those things to you, you wouldn't have been so upset. You wouldn't have gotten into that accident."

Sandra looks at me sadly, her eyes filled with regret.

"I know," she whispers quietly.

"But it's done now. All we can do is move forward."

We sit there in silence for a moment longer before Sandra speaks again.

"I lost my phone during the accident," she explains softly, "That's why I didn't respond to your texts."

Tears well up in my eyes as I realize how much she must have suffered alone after our fight. "I'm so sorry," I say again, feeling helpless against the pain we've both endured.

Sandra nods slowly, her gaze never leaving mine.

"I know," she replies softly, reaching out to brush away my tears with her fingertips.

"It's okay. We're okay."

I stand in the hallway, the door to Sandra's room closed behind me.

Michael steps out of Lucas's room, his eyes narrowing as he looks at me.

"What the fuck are you doing, Mohamed?"

His voice is sharp with anger.

"You're supposed to be there for Lucas, but instead, you were about to kiss his twin sister."

My stomach knots as I plead with him, "Don't tell Lucas or Emily or Sasha or Mia."

Michael shakes his head, his expression firm.

"No secrets. If this gets out, our friend group is over. I need us all to be friends now."

I take a deep breath, trying to steady my voice, "I know, Michael. I just... I don't want to hurt anyone."

He crosses his arms, his gaze unwavering, "Then you need to figure out what you really want, Mohamed."

I follow Michael back to Lucas's bedroom.

Emily and Lucas are on a video call with Ethan, who looks upset.

Lucas's eyes are bloodshot, his voice cracking as he speaks.

"Why don't you love me, Ethan? Have I done something to hurt you?"

Ethan doesn't respond, and Lucas continues pleading.

"I love you, Ethan. Please don't leave me."

I step forward, grabbing the phone from Lucas's trembling hand.

I turn it off, ending the call.

The room falls silent except for Lucas's sniffles.

He looks up at me, gratitude in his eyes, "Thanks, Mohamed. You're a good friend."

I glance at Michael, knowing he's aware of my secret with Sandra.

I sit on my bed, staring at the floor.

Mom enters my room, her expression heavy.

She sits down next to me and asks if I'm okay.

I look up at her, meeting her gaze, "Are you leaving again?"

I ask.

"Yes," she replies softly, "I'm sorry, Mohamed. You were right. I was messing everything up."

I sigh, feeling frustrated and helpless, "Can't we just be a family? Me, you, Dad, and Luna?"

Mom shakes her head sadly, "It doesn't work that way. I need to go."

She hands me a piece of paper with her new address on it.

"Come visit me anytime," she says softly.

"But you promised this time would be different," I remind her, my voice barely above a whisper.

"This time we were going to be a family."

She nods slowly, her eyes filled with regret, "I know. And I'm sorry. But I can't stay."

I watch her walk away, feeling the weight of promises broken and dreams deferred.

I sit on Sandra's bed, recounting the tangled web of my parents' affairs and broken promises.

She listens intently, her eyes softening with sympathy.

"I'm sorry," she murmurs when I finish speaking.

I nod, feeling overwhelmed by the complexity of it all.

"I love you, Sandra," I confess, my voice barely above a whisper.

She looks up at me, her expression surprised but hopeful, "You do?"

"Yes," I admit, taking her hand in mine.

"I can't stop thinking about you. Even when I was with Mia, you were always on my mind."

Sandra smiles softly, her fingers intertwining with mine, "I love you too."

We lean in, our lips meeting in a passionate kiss.

It's not long before we're undressed and m#####e for the second time that day.

Afterwards, we lie together, our bodies entwined as we talk about everything and nothing.

Sandra mentions that she was a v##n the first time we slept together.

I share my own secret: that I was too.

She talks about her late friend Lily and how much she misses her.

I tell her about my self-harm, the scars hidden on my body.

Sandra gently takes my left wrist, tracing the fresh cuts with her fingers.

"Do you want to talk about your self-harm?" she asks softly.

I shrug, feigning ignorance.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

She looks at me, her eyes filled with concern, "I saw you with the knife, Mohamed. I know you're cutting yourself."

I sigh, feeling a mix of relief and shame wash over me.

"I do it when I feel sad or scared or stressed or angsty," I admit quietly.

Sandra nods understandingly, her voice filled with empathy, "I'm here for you. You can tell me anything."

I sit on the bedroom floor with Sandra, our backs against the wall.

She holds my left wrist, tracing the scars with her fingertips.

The next morning, I walk into school and see Michael, Lucas, Sasha, and Mia standing by their lockers.

They all glare at me, except for Mia.

Lucas steps forward, his voice tight with anger, "Is it true? Are you sleeping with Sandra?"

I nod slowly, knowing there's no point in denying it.

Lucas punches me in the face, and I fall to the ground.

"Fuck you," he says, his voice trembling with rage.

Michael pulls him away from me, his expression torn between anger and confusion.

"I told you not to tell anyone," I reply, rubbing my sore cheek.

Michael shakes his head, "I didn't tell him. He found out on his own."

Lucas looks at me, his eyes filled with betrayal.

"Sandra's phone was recovered from the accident. The police gave it back to us yesterday. There were flirty texts and photos of you two together."

Mia walks up to us, her eyes wide with confusion, "What's going on?"

Michael turns to her, his voice softening, "Mohamed cheated on you twice."

Mia looks at me, her eyes filled with hurt and betrayal.

I take a deep breath and walk towards her, "Mia... I'm sorry."

She shakes her head, her voice trembling with emotion, "You're sorry? You're sorry?"

I nod slowly, feeling the weight of my mistakes bearing down on me.

"Mia i love you. But I love Sandra more."

Mia looks at me incredulously, "How could you do this to me?"

Before I can answer, Sandra appears beside us. "Mohamed told me everything," she says softly.

"I'm sorry for hurting you."

Mia glares at her, her eyes flashing with anger.

"You're sorry? You're sorry?"

Sandra nods slowly, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Yes... I'm sorry."

Without warning, Mia punches Sandra in the face.

Sandra stumbles backward, clutching her nose in pain.

"Ow," she cries out in pain.

"I have a concussion!"

Everyone starts walking away except for Sandra.

I stand there, watching her retreating figure, knowing that nothing will ever be the same.

I kneel beside Sandra on the cold hallway floor.

Other students gather around us, whispering and pointing.

Blood trickles from her nose where Mia's punch landed.

Sandra winces when I touch her face, her recent concussion making the injury worse.

I sit in the nurse's office with Sandra, her nose no longer bleeding.

My own face throbs from Lucas's punch earlier.

As we leave the office, I notice the popular guys nodding at me in approval.

They're impressed that I slept with both Sandra and Mia.

The girls glare at me, whispering angrily amongst themselves.

My friends - Michael, Emily, and Sasha - avoid eye contact with me, clearly disappointed in my actions.

Lucas looks at me with a mix of betrayal and anger in his eyes.

I try to approach him, but he turns away.

Sandra grabs my hand, leading me to her next class.

I trail behind her through the crowded hallway, watching as students part like waves to let us pass.

Her cheerleading uniform stands out against the sea of regular clothes, making it impossible to ignore the whispers and pointing that follow us.

We reach Ms. Peterson's History class, and Sandra hesitates at the door.

Her hand trembles slightly as she clutches the doorknob.

I grab her wrist, pulling her aside into the empty computer lab next door.

Under the harsh fluorescent lights, I notice that her nose has started bleeding again.

I reach for tissues in my backpack and hand them to her.

Sandra dabs at her nose, her eyes welling up with tears.

"Everyone hates me now," she whispers.

"Then let's give them something to talk about," I reply, determined to face the fallout together.

I guide her to sit on one of the computer lab chairs.

She continues dabbing at her nose, and I kneel in front of her.

The fluorescent lights cast harsh shadows across her face, making her tears glisten.

Her shoulders shake as she tries to hold back quiet sobs.

In the distance, we can hear the muffled voices of students and the occasional footsteps in the hallway.

I take the bloodied tissue from her trembling hands and wipe away fresh tears that roll down her cheeks.

Her dark eyes meet mine, filled with vulnerability and a hint of questioning.

The bell rings, signaling the start of class, but neither of us moves.

Instead, I lean forward, my face inches from hers, and whisper, "I don't hate you."

Sandra looks at me, her voice barely audible, "But what about Mia? What about everyone else?"

I sigh, glancing away for a moment before meeting her gaze again, "They'll come around eventually. We just need to show them we're serious."

She nods slowly, uncertainty still clouding her eyes, "And if they don't?"

I help her stand from the computer lab chair, steadying her as she sways slightly from the concussion.

Her fingers intertwine with mine, cold and trembling.

Through the window of the computer lab, I can see students rushing between classes, some slowing to peer inside at us.

Sandra's grip tightens when she notices them.

Taking a deep breath, I pull her gently toward the door.

She hesitates at the threshold, but I squeeze her hand reassuringly.

The hallway falls silent as we emerge, whispers starting immediately.

We walk forward, unflinching, as the crowd parts around us.

I slump into a kitchen chair, my dad examining the bruise forming around my eye.

Luna hovers nearby, an ice pack in hand.

Susan stands with her arms crossed, her expression a mix of concern and annoyance.

I recount the events from the parking lot, my voice cracking as I describe Lucas's punch, Mia's tears, and Michael's revelation about my double betrayal.

Dad's jaw tightens when I mention Sandra's recovered phone and her involvement in exposing our affair.

His eyes dart to the window facing the Jacksons' house next door.

"I'm sorry," I say, my voice barely above a whisper.

"I didn't mean to hurt anyone."

Dad's gaze shifts back to me, his eyes filled with disappointment.

"You should have thought of that before you started seeing Sandra behind Mia's back."

I sit in silence, the ice pack pressed against my bruised eye.

Dad and Susan listen attentively, their expressions a mix of shock and concern.

Luna brings me a cup of tea, her eyes filled with worry as she sets it on the table in front of me.

I take a sip, the warmth spreading through my chest.

"I never meant for things to get this complicated," I explain, my voice filled with regret.

"I was trying to help Sandra after the accident, but then Lucas punched me, and Mia found out about us."

Dad's gaze drifts to the window again, his eyes fixed on the Jacksons' house next door.

He shakes his head, disappointment etched on his face.

"I'm sorry," I say again, my voice cracking.

"I know I messed up."

Luna squeezes my hand reassuringly, offering silent support.

Susan sighs, her expression softening slightly.

"We'll get through this," she says gently.

"But you need to talk to Lucas, Emily, Sasha, Michael... and Mia. You need to make things right."

I nod, determination filling me.

"I will," I promise, my voice steady despite the turmoil inside.

Dad leans forward, his tone firm yet understanding, "And remember, honesty is the only way out of this mess."

Susan adds softly, "We'll be here to help you pick up the pieces, but you have to take the first step."

The next morning, I sit in a quiet corner of Café Bean, nursing a cup of coffee.

I stare out the window, watching people rush to work as I try to clear my head.

Suddenly, a man in a trench coat approaches my table.

He pulls out the chair across from me and sits down, his eyes locked on mine.

"Good morning," he says, his voice firm but polite.

"I'm Detective David Shaw. Do you mind if I join you?"

I shake my head, feeling a mix of curiosity and apprehension.

He explains that he knows my father, Abdinur Abdi.

He reveals that my parents had me when they were 15 years old and that Dad later had Luna with Nicole Watson.

He mentions Kelly Johnson, Dad's late wife, who died under mysterious circumstances.

"She was poisoned," he says bluntly.

"Your father gave her a milkshake with wolfsbane."

I ask him for evidence, and he confirms that he has it.

Then he asks for my help in bringing Dad to justice.

I stare at Detective Shaw, my mind racing with the weight of his revelation, knowing that my next decision could unravel everything.

I walk into the kitchen, my heart pounding in my chest.

Dad is cooking dinner, his back to me as he stirs something on the stove.

"Detective Shaw was here," I say, my voice trembling slightly.

Dad's hands freeze, and he turns to face me slowly.

His eyes widen as he takes in my expression.

"What did he say?" he asks cautiously.

I take a deep breath and recount everything - Kelly Johnson, the wolfsbane, the evidence.

Dad's face turns pale, and he drops the spatula onto the counter with a clatter.

He stares at me, his mouth opening and closing without any sound coming out.

"I..."

He clears his throat, trying to regain his composure.

"I don't know what to say."

I cut him off before he can continue, my voice firm but shaking with emotion.

"Don't lie to me again. Tell me the truth."

Dad sighs heavily and leans against the counter, his eyes downcast.

"I didn't mean to hurt Kelly," he says quietly.

"I was protecting you."

I frown, confusion clouding my thoughts.

"Protecting me?"

He nods slowly, his voice barely above a whisper.

"She touched you inappropriately during a yoga session. I couldn't let her get away with it."

I remember the incident vaguely - Kelly had been our yoga instructor, and I had felt uncomfortable with her touch.

But I had never told anyone about it.

Dad continues speaking, his words tumbling out in a rush.

"I didn't want to hurt her, but I couldn't let her hurt you either. So I gave her the milkshake with wolfsbane."

I stare at him, my mind reeling with the implications of what he's just said.

"You killed her," I say finally, my voice barely audible.

Dad nods again, his eyes filled with regret and sorrow.

"I know. And I'm sorry. But I had to protect you."

I take a deep breath and ask the question that's been weighing heavily on my mind.

"What about Detective Shaw? What should I do?"

Dad's face hardens, his jaw clenching in determination.

"Don't worry about him. I'll handle it."

He picks up the spatula from the counter and turns back to the stove, his movements tense and controlled.

I watch him for a moment, trying to process everything he's just told me.

I turn and walk away, knowing that the truth has shattered everything I thought I knew.

I sit in my bedroom, scrolling through Instagram photos of Kelly Johnson's yoga studio.

The images show her posing in various yoga positions, her smile bright and welcoming.

I can't help but feel a pang of guilt as I look at the photos, knowing what Dad did to her.

But I push the thoughts away and continue scrolling through the feed, looking for any clues about Kelly's life before she died.

As I scroll, my mind keeps drifting back to Sandra and our upcoming date.

I can't wait to see her again and make up for everything that happened earlier.

A knock on my door pulls me out of my thoughts, and I turn to see Luna standing in the doorway with a stack of textbooks in her arms.

"Hey," she says softly, her eyes filled with concern.

"Are you okay?"

I nod slowly, trying to muster up a smile.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Just doing some homework."

Luna looks skeptical but doesn't push the issue.

"Okay," she says, setting down the textbooks on my desk.

"If you need anything, let me know."

I nod again, watching as she turns and walks out of my room.

As soon as the door closes behind her, I turn my attention back to my phone and start typing out a message to Sandra. At dinner that night, Dad serves spaghetti with marinara sauce just like he always does.

We sit around the table in silence for a few minutes before he breaks the tension with one of his bad jokes.

Susan rolls her eyes good-naturedly and playfully hits him on the arm.

I can't help but laugh at their banter, feeling a sense of normalcy wash over me despite everything that's happened recently.

As we eat, Dad glances at me occasionally, his expression unreadable.

I wonder what he's thinking about - whether he's worried about getting caught or if he's relieved that he finally confessed to me.

After dinner, I head back to my room and pull out my phone to text Sandra again.

I'm surprised by how easily I've accepted Dad's confession - after all, he did it to protect me from Kelly Johnson's abuse.

I park my Honda Civic next to Mom's motorcycle in her driveway.

I grip the handle of my suitcase, which I packed haphazardly earlier that day.

The weight of Dad's confession about Kelly Johnson's murder and Detective Shaw's investigation into the crime weighs heavily on my mind.

I have to tell Mom everything.

I knock on her door, and she opens it after a few moments, looking surprised to see me standing there.

She's wearing her usual photography vest and has a camera slung around her neck.

"Hey," she says, stepping aside to let me in.

"What brings you here?"

I walk into her living room, which is decorated with framed travel photos from around the world.

There are pictures of her hiking in the mountains, swimming in the ocean, and exploring foreign cities.

"Mom," I say, my voice shaking slightly.

"I need to tell you something."

She frowns, concern etched on her face.

"What is it?"

I take a deep breath and spill everything - the mess with Sandra, the fight with Luna, Dad's confession about Kelly Johnson's murder, and Detective Shaw's investigation.

My voice cracks when I describe how Dad p###d Kelly with w####e in a milkshake. Mom listens silently, her expression growing more and more shocked as I speak.

When I finally finish talking, she stares at me for a long moment before speaking.

"I'm sorry you're going through all this," she says softly.

"But you can stay here for as long as you need."

She leads me to a spare bedroom in the back of the house and leaves me alone to unpack my suitcase.

I unpack my clothes and toiletries into the dresser drawers, my mind still reeling from everything that's happened.

The room is decorated with more of Mom's travel photos, but I barely notice them.

I sit on the edge of the bed, staring blankly at the wall.

My mind is still reeling from everything that's happened, and I feel like I'm drowning in a sea of emotions.

I reach into my pocket and pull out my pocket knife, running my thumb over the blade.

I slowly press the tip of the knife against my wrist, feeling the sharp metal cut into my skin.

A small trickle of blood runs down my arm, and I watch it with a sense of detachment.

The pain is a welcome distraction from the chaos in my mind.

I continue to press the knife into my skin, watching as the blood flows freely.

It's a strange kind of comfort, but it's all I can find right now.

After a few minutes, I set the knife down and grab a handful of tissues to clean up the blood.

I wipe away as much as I can, then hide the knife under my clothes. There's a knock on the door, and Mom pokes her head in.

"Are you okay?" she asks softly.

"Do you need anything?"

I force a smile onto my face and shake my head.

"No, I'm fine," I say, tucking the tissues into my pocket.

"Just tired."

Mom nods and closes the door behind her.

I sit in the silence, my heart still pounding from the release of emotions. Suddenly, my phone buzzes on the bed beside me. It's a message from Sandra.

"Hey, just checking in. Are you okay?"

I hesitate for a moment before typing back.

"Yeah, just dealing with some family stuff. Can we talk later?"

Her reply is almost instant.

"Of course. I'm here whenever you need me."

I set the phone down, feeling a small sense of relief knowing she's there for me.

I sit at Mom's kitchen counter, picking at my bowl of cereal while she makes coffee.

She glances over at me as she pours the steaming liquid into her mug.

"Does your dad know you're here?"

I grip my spoon tightly and shake my head.

"No," I say, my voice barely above a whisper.

"I ran away from his house after he told me everything."

Mom frowns and sets her mug down on the counter.

"What did he tell you?"

I take a deep breath and explain everything - how I fled Dad's house after he confessed to Kelly's murder, how I found out about his engagement to Susan, and how he framed Luna's mom Nicole for the crime.

My voice cracks as I tell her about hiding Nicole's prison letters from Luna and how I've been lying to everyone about everything.

I stare down at my soggy cereal, unable to meet Mom's eyes. "He told me he poisoned Kelly because she touched me inappropriately two years ago," I say, my voice trembling.

"He said it was the only way to protect me."

Mom's face tightens, and she picks up her mug again.

"I'm so sorry you had to go through that," she says softly.

I nod, my hands shaking as I set my spoon down.

"I don't know what to do," I say, my voice cracking.

"I can't live with him anymore."

Mom reaches out and gently places a hand on my shoulder.

"We'll figure something out," she says softly.

"But first, maybe we should go talk to your dad. He needs to know that you're here."

I shake my head, tears streaming down my face.

"I can't face him right now," I say, my voice breaking.

Mom sighs and pulls me into a hug.

"Okay," she says softly.

"Just take some time for yourself. We'll talk about it later."

I nod, feeling a sense of relief wash over me.

But as I pull away from Mom's embrace, I start to feel a familiar sensation creeping up inside me - my heart racing, my breath catching in my throat.

I try to take a deep breath, but it feels like there's a weight pressing down on my chest.

My vision blurs, and I feel myself starting to panic. "Mom," I say, my voice shaking.

"I think something's wrong."

She looks at me with concern and grabs hold of my hand.

"Take slow breaths," she says softly.

"In through your nose, out through your mouth."

I try to follow her instructions, but it's hard to focus when all I can think about is how much pain I'm in.

My chest tightens even more, and I feel like I'm going to pass out.

"Mom," I say again, this time more urgently.

"Help me."

She squeezes my hand tightly and says, "It's okay. Just breathe. You're having a panic attack."

I nod, trying to calm myself down.

I've never had a panic attack before, but Mom has told me about them in the past.

She said that Dad used to have them every week before they got divorced when I was five years old. After a few minutes of deep breathing with Mom's guidance, the pain starts to subside and my heart rate slows down.

I look up at her with tears in my eyes and ask, "What do I do now?"

Mom smiles gently and says, "Let's go talk to your dad. He deserves to know what he's done."

I hesitate for a moment before nodding in agreement.

We drive over to Dad's house together, the silence between us thick with tension.

I stand in the doorway, my suitcase still in hand, as Dad looks up at me from his chair.

"Hey," he says, a smile on his face.

"Welcome back."

I nod, feeling a mix of emotions inside me.

"Thanks."

He stands up and walks over to me, wrapping his arms around me in a hug.

"I missed you," he says softly.

"I'm sorry for everything that happened."

I pull away from him and look into his eyes.

"I know," I say quietly.

"But I need to tell you something."

He nods and gestures for me to follow him into the living room.

We sit down on the couch together, and I take a deep breath before speaking.

"Dad, I took $500 from your wallet," I say finally, my voice shaking slightly.

He looks at me with surprise and asks, "What? Why?"

I explain how I needed the money for gas and how I didn't want to ask him because I knew he would say no.

He listens intently, his expression softening as I speak. "I'm sorry," I say again when I finish explaining.

"I know it was wrong of me to take your money without asking."

Dad sighs and rubs his temples with one hand.

"I understand why you did it," he says finally.

"But next time, just ask me. Okay?"

I nod, feeling a sense of relief wash over me.

"Okay," I say softly.

He smiles and puts a hand on my shoulder.

"I love you," he says gently.

"And I'm glad you're home."

As we sit there together, Mom clears her throat to get our attention.

"Um, Mohamed?" she says quietly.

"We need to talk about something else too."

Dad turns to look at her, his expression curious.

"What is it?"

Mom takes a deep breath before speaking again.

"You know how Mohamed has been having panic attacks lately?"

She glances at me, and I sit down at the kitchen table.

I can feel my heart pounding in my chest, and I know what she's about to say.

I interrupt her before she can continue.

"Mom, no."

She shakes her head and says, "Mohamed, he has to know. He's your father."

I look at her pleadingly, hoping that she'll understand.

"Please don't tell him."

She sighs and looks at me for a long moment before speaking again.

"Okay, I won't tell him. But you have to promise me one thing."

I nod eagerly, knowing that I'll do anything to keep her from telling Dad.

"Anything," I say.

"You have to go to therapy," she says firmly.

I nod again, knowing that this is something I need to do anyway.

"I will," I say quietly.

She smiles and puts a hand on my shoulder.

"I'm proud of you," she says softly.

Dad looks confused as he watches the exchange between us.

"What's going on?"

Mom turns to him and says, "It's just a code we have between us. Nothing important."

He nods slowly, seeming to accept her explanation.

"Okay. Well, if you're sure everything is fine, then let's get ready for dinner." Mom nods and stands up from the table.

"I'll go start cooking," she says.

As she walks into the kitchen, Dad turns to me and asks, "Are you okay?"

I nod quickly, trying not to show my true emotions.

"Yeah, I'm fine," I say quietly.

He looks at me skeptically for a moment before saying, "Okay. If you're sure."

I nod again and stand up from the table.

"I'll go help Mom with dinner," I say softly.

As I walk into the kitchen, I can feel Dad watching me closely behind me.

I know that he doesn't believe me when I say that everything is fine, but I hope that he'll give me the space I need right now.

The next morning, Dad sits down with me at the kitchen table as Mom makes breakfast in the background.

He clears his throat and says, "Mohamed, we need to talk."

I nod and wait for him to continue speaking.

"I've been thinking a lot about what happened with Kelly Johnson," he says quietly.

"And I realize now that I made a mistake by keeping it from you."

He takes a deep breath and looks down at his hands, which are clasped tightly together on the table.

"I used to be part of a gang," he says quietly.

"I was in it for a long time, and I did some things that I'm not proud of. But I thought it was the only way to protect our family."

I stare at him in shock, my mind racing with questions.

But before I can ask any of them, Dad continues speaking.

"I ran away from home when I was 15 years old," he says softly.

"I met your mom in a bar, and we had you when we were both just 15 years old. We were young parents, but we loved each other and wanted to give you the best life possible."

He pauses and takes a deep breath before continuing.

"But things got harder after that. I started working for the gang again, doing jobs for them here and there. And then one day, they asked me to k#l someone. I refused, but they threatened to hurt you and your mom if I didn't do it."

His voice cracks as he speaks, and I can see the pain in his eyes.

"So I did it," he says finally.

"I killed that man, and then I killed many more after that. All because I wanted to keep you safe." Mom walks over to the table and places a plate of pancakes in front of me.

She looks at Dad with sadness in her eyes before turning back to me.

"Your dad has done some terrible things," she says softly.

"But he did them all for us."

I look at her and then back at Dad, who is staring down at his hands again.

I can feel tears welling up in my eyes as I try to process everything they've just told me.

Finally, I speak up.

"I forgive you," I say quietly.

Dad looks up at me, his eyes filled with relief.

"Thank you," he says softly.

"And I promise to never keep anything from you again."

I nod slowly, knowing that it will take time for me to fully trust him again.

But for now, at least, we're on the right path.

I sit at the kitchen table, staring at Dad as he speaks.

His voice is steady, but his eyes betray the regret and pain he feels.

"I would do anything for you, Mohamed, and Luna," he says.

"I would k#l and t###e people for you because I wanted to give you and Luna the life I never had."

His hands tremble slightly as he reaches across the table, seeking understanding.

I watch Luna, her expression softening as she looks at him.

Despite the shock of his words, I feel a strange sense of relief.

Luna breaks the silence, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Dad, we never wanted you to do those things for us."

Dad nods, his eyes glistening with unshed tears.

"I know, and I'm sorry. I thought it was the only way."

I reluctantly return to Wellsbury High after missing two weeks of school.

As I walk through the crowded hallways, I keep my head down, avoiding eye contact with anyone.

I sit on a bench in the school courtyard, waiting for Lucas and our friends to arrive.

I check my phone for what feels like the hundredth time, my heart racing with anticipation.

When I see Lucas and the others approaching, I stand up and turn to face them.

"Hey," I say, trying to sound casual despite my nerves.

Lucas looks at me warily, his arms crossed over his chest.

"What do you want?"

I take a deep breath and launch into my prepared speech.

"I'm sorry for lying about Sandra. I was scared of losing you, but that's no excuse for what I did."

Lucas looks at me skeptically, his eyes narrowing slightly.

"I don't know if I can trust you again."

"I understand," I say, feeling a pang of regret.

"But I promise to be honest with you from now on."

He nods slowly, seeming to consider my words.

"Okay," he says finally.

"But it's going to take time."

I nod eagerly, relief washing over me.

"Of course. Thank you."

As Lucas turns to leave, Mia steps forward and looks at me with tears in her eyes.

"I can't believe you cheated on me with Sandra," she says, her voice trembling.

"Not once, but twice."

I look down at the ground, feeling ashamed of what I've done.

"I'm so sorry," I say quietly.

"I never meant to hurt you." Mia shakes her head and turns away from me, walking off with the others following behind her.

As they disappear into the crowd of students, I feel a sense of sadness wash over me.

I know that it will take time for them to forgive me, but I'm determined to make things right between us.

I watch as Mia walks away from me, her shoulders slumped in defeat.

I can see the pain in her eyes as she looks back at me one last time before disappearing into the crowd of students rushing to their next class.

I feel a pang of regret as I realize what I've done to her - not only cheating on her with Sandra twice but also lying about it and hurting her even more.

I follow Mia through the crowded hallway, calling her name as she speeds up to avoid me.

I finally catch up with her near the chemistry lab and grab her arm, causing her to spin around and face me.

"Mia, please listen," I say, trying to keep my voice steady.

"I'm so sorry for what I did. I never meant to hurt you."

Mia looks at me with tears streaming down her face.

"You broke my heart twice," she says, her voice shaking.

"First by cheating on me, and then by admitting that you love Sandra more than me."

I take a deep breath and look into her eyes, hoping that she will see the sincerity in my words.

"I'm so sorry, Mia. I never meant to hurt you."

She stares at me for a long moment, her eyes filling with tears.

Finally, she speaks.

"I need time to think about everything."

I nod slowly, understanding her need for space.

"Okay," I say quietly.

"But please know that I love you and I want to make things right between us."

She nods and turns to leave, but not before I see the pain in her eyes.

As she walks away, I realize that the path to redemption is long and uncertain, but it's one I must take alone.

I lean against the chemistry lab counter, still reeling from Mia's departure.

The door opens softly, and Sandra slips inside, her eyes scanning the room until they land on me.

She approaches cautiously, her expression a mix of concern and uncertainty.

"Hey," she says softly as she reaches my side.

"How are you doing?"

I take a deep breath, trying to gather my thoughts.

"I just talked to Mia," I say, my voice barely above a whisper.

"It didn't go well."

Sandra's face falls as she listens to my words.

"I'm so sorry," she says, reaching out to touch my arm.

"I know how much she means to you."

I nod slowly, feeling a lump form in my throat.

"Yeah. I don't know what I did."

Sandra pulls me into a hug, her warmth enveloping me as I struggle to hold back tears.

"It'll be okay," she whispers into my ear.

"You two will work things out."

As we pull away from each other, I notice Sandra's eyes fixed on something on my wrist.

I follow her gaze and see that I've been unconsciously rubbing the cuts that crisscross my skin.

Sandra grabs my hand gently, stopping me from continuing the motion. "You're going to hurt yourself again," she says softly, her voice filled with concern.

I look down at our joined hands and sigh deeply.

"I only do this when I'm feeling really bad," I admit quietly.

"Like when I'm sad or angry."

Sandra's grip on my hand tightens slightly as she processes my words.

"What are you feeling right now?" she asks gently.

I look up at her, meeting her worried gaze.

"Guilt," I whisper, my voice barely audible.

"So much guilt. And sadness that I can't seem to shake."

Sandra's eyes soften, and she squeezes my hand reassuringly.

"You don't have to go through this alone," she says gently.

"I'll be here for you, no matter what."

I lead Sandra out of the chemistry lab, both of us walking in silence through the empty hallways.

The only sound is the echo of our footsteps against the tile floor.

We eventually make our way to Café Bean, a small coffee shop tucked away in a corner of the campus.

As we enter, the aroma of freshly brewed coffee envelops us, providing a comforting atmosphere amidst the tension between us.

We find a quiet corner booth, away from the bustling crowd of students typing away on their laptops or chatting with friends.

Sandra orders her usual caramel latte, while I opt for a black coffee, my hands still trembling slightly as I hold the steaming cup.

The barista brings our drinks, and as she sets them down on the table, Sandra reaches across and gently touches my wrist where the cuts are hidden beneath my sleeve.

I instinctively pull back, but she holds firm. "Let me see," she says softly, her eyes filled with concern.

I hesitate for a moment before slowly rolling up my sleeve to reveal the fresh wounds that crisscross my skin.

Sandra's breath catches in her throat as she takes in the sight before her.

"These are new," she whispers, her voice filled with worry.

"How long have you been doing this?"

I take a sip of my coffee, trying to gather my thoughts before answering.

"I started when I was 13," I admit quietly.

"Things were really chaotic with my dad and Luna at the time."

Sandra nods, her eyes never leaving mine.

"And you've been doing it ever since?"

I nod again, feeling a mix of shame and vulnerability.

"It's just something I do when I'm feeling overwhelmed."

Sandra reaches across the table and gently takes my hand in hers.

"We need to get you help," she says softly.

"This isn't healthy, and it's not something you should be doing alone."

I look down at our intertwined hands, feeling a surge of gratitude towards her.

"I know," I say quietly.

"But I don't know where to start."

Sandra squeezes my hand reassuringly.

"We'll figure it out together," she promises.

"You're not alone in this."

As we finish our drinks and prepare to leave Café Bean, Sandra holds my hand tightly, her grip a silent promise of support and understanding.

I know that I still have a long way to go in confronting my demons, but with her by my side, I feel a sense of hope that I haven't felt in a long time. As we walk out of the café, Sandra turns to me with a determined look in her eyes.

"We're going to get through this together," she says firmly.

"You don't have to hide this from me anymore."

I nod slowly, feeling a mix of relief and trepidation as we head back towards the school building.

The rest of the day passes in a blur as I try to focus on my classes while also processing everything that has happened with Sandra.

It isn't until later that night, sitting on my bed with my journal open in front of me, that I finally allow myself to fully confront the emotions that have been swirling inside me all day.

As I write down my thoughts and feelings, tears stream down my face as I come to terms with the fact that I can no longer keep my self-harm a secret from those closest to me.

The next day, after school ends, I make my way home with Sandra by my side.

As soon as we step through the front door, Dad looks up from his chair and greets us both warmly. "Hey there," he says with a smile.

"How was your day?"

I glance over at Sandra before answering him.

"It was good," I say quietly.

"Dad, can we talk?"

He looks at me with a hint of concern and nods.

"Of course, what's on your mind?"

I take a deep breath, feeling Sandra's reassuring presence beside me.

"Dad, there's something important I need to tell you."

I sit across from Dad at our kitchen table, Sandra's hand squeezing mine under the surface.

My sleeve rides up slightly, revealing a glimpse of the fresh cuts that line my wrist.

Dad's eyes lock onto them, his coffee cup frozen halfway to his mouth.

I force the words out, my voice trembling.

"Dad, I started doing this when I was 13. Everything was so overwhelming with you and Luna... I didn't know how to deal with it all."

He sets his cup down, his face crumpling as he processes my words.

"Where were you cutting yourself?"

I swallow hard, feeling a mix of shame and vulnerability.

"On my wrists. And sometimes on my thighs."

He looks down at my exposed wrists, his eyes filled with guilt and regret.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

I shrug, feeling a mix of emotions.

"I was scared. I didn't want to burden you with more problems."

Dad reaches across the table, his hand brushing against mine.

"I love you, Mohamed. You're my son, and I'll do whatever it takes to help you."

Sandra squeezes my hand again, her presence a comforting anchor.

"We'll get through this together," she whispers softly.

Dad looks at Sandra, his eyes filled with gratitude.

"Thank you for being here for him."

She nods, her voice steady.

"I love Mohamed. I'm not going anywhere."

I take a deep breath, feeling a sense of relief wash over me.

"Thank you both," I say quietly.

"I promise to stop cutting myself. But I need your help."

Dad nods, his face filled with determination.

"We'll do whatever it takes. We'll find you a therapist, and I'll be there every step of the way."

I look between them, taking in their words.

"I love you both," I say softly.

Dad squeezes my hand.

"We love you too, Mohamed."

The waiting room for Dr. Chen's office smells like vanilla air freshener and stale coffee.

I sit on a worn couch next to Dad and Sandra, fidgeting with the sleeve of my shirt to cover the fresh cuts on my wrist from two days ago.

I'm nervous about meeting this new therapist, but Dad insists that she's one of the best in the city.

A few minutes later, a middle-aged woman with kind eyes and short black hair calls my name from the doorway.

"Hello, Mohamed," she says warmly.

"Please come in."

I stand up and follow her into a small office with a desk and two chairs.

Dad and Sandra wait outside, giving me a reassuring nod as I close the door behind me.

Dr. Chen gestures for me to sit down, and I comply, pulling up my sleeves to reveal the cuts on my wrists and thighs.

She looks at them briefly before meeting my gaze.

"Can you tell me a little bit about yourself?"

"Thank you for showing me," she says softly.

"Can you tell me a little bit about your family?"

I take a deep breath and explain the situation with my dad and Luna, how he got engaged to Susan, the mayor of Wellsbury, and how my mom is a tough-as-nails rockstar who loves me but can't be around.

I tell her about how Dad used to be a hitman but quit when I was 13, and how he thinks he's protecting Luna and me by keeping us locked up in the house.

But really, he doesn't trust us at all.

Dr. Chen listens intently, nodding along as I speak.

"So, you started cutting yourself when you were 13?" she asks gently.

"Yes. It helps when I'm feeling sad or stressed or angry."

"And how often do you cut yourself?"

"Usually when I'm feeling really overwhelmed. It's not every day."

Dr. Chen nods again, jotting down some notes on her pad.

"And what do you think would help you stop cutting yourself?"

"I don't know. That's why I'm here."

She smiles kindly at me.

"Well, the first step is acknowledging that you want to change, and you've already done that," she says reassuringly.

"I'll work with you to find healthier ways to cope with your emotions."

I nod, feeling a glimmer of hope as I listen to her words.

Dr. Chen's office is dimly lit, with only a few lamps illuminating the space.

The walls are painted a soothing light blue, and there's a large window that lets in plenty of natural light.

She sits behind her desk, while I slouch on the leather couch across from her.

"So, Mohamed," she says gently.

"I've been thinking about our last session, and I wanted to try something new with you."

I raise an eyebrow, curious about what she has planned.

"What is it?"

"Well, I've found that writing can be a really helpful way to process your emotions," she explains.

"And since you enjoy writing already, I thought maybe we could try journaling as a way to cope with your feelings."

I shrug, not entirely convinced.

"I don't know. It sounds kinda stupid."

Dr. Chen smiles kindly at me.

"I understand that it might seem silly at first, but trust me, it can be really helpful. And lots of teenagers have found it useful in managing their emotions."

She pulls out a black leather-bound book from her desk drawer and hands it to me.

"Here, take this. Whenever you feel like cutting yourself, write in this journal instead. See how it goes."

I take the journal hesitantly, running my fingers over the smooth cover.

"Okay," I say finally.

"I'll try it." When I get home from Dr. Chen's office, I head straight up to my room and sit down at my desk.

I open the journal to the first blank page and stare at it for a long time before picking up my pen.

I sit at my desk, pen in hand, and start writing.

The words flow easily onto the page as I describe the darkness that's been following me around lately and how it makes me want to cut myself.

As I write, I feel like I'm releasing all the emotions that have been bottled up inside me.

It's a strange feeling, but it's also kind of nice.

Over the next few weeks, I fill up more and more pages in the journal.

I write about everything from school to my friends to my family drama.

And every time I feel like cutting myself, I pick up my pen and write instead.

It's not always easy, but it's definitely helping.

I see Dr. Chen three times a week for therapy sessions, and each time I bring her my journal so she can read what I've written.

She listens intently as I tell her about how writing has been helping me cope with my feelings.

She smiles and nods along, making notes in her own book. "You're doing great," she says when we're finished.

"Just keep writing whenever you need to."

I nod and leave her office, feeling good about the progress I've made so far.

When I get home from school the next day, I head straight up to my room and sit down at my desk.

As I open my journal, the door creaks open and Dad pokes his head in.

"Hey, Mohamed," he says softly. "Can we talk for a minute?"

I nod, closing the journal and turning to face him as he steps inside.

His eyes are red and puffy, like he's been crying.

He glances down at the journal in my hands and frowns.

"Is that your journal?"

I nod, holding it out to him.

He takes it from me and sits down on my bed, opening it to a random page.

As he reads, his face grows paler and paler.

I watch as he flips through the pages, his eyes scanning my messy handwriting.

The words spill out onto the pages, telling the story of a boy who's struggling to cope with his emotions.

A boy who turns to cutting himself as a way to deal with the pain inside.

Dad closes the journal carefully and sets it back on my desk.

He looks at me with tears in his eyes and says, "I didn't know."

I shrug, not knowing what to say. He gets up from the bed and comes over to sit next to me at my desk.

He puts a hand on my shoulder and squeezes gently.

"I'm sorry," he says quietly.

"I had no idea you were going through all this."

I shrug again, feeling a lump form in my throat.

"It's okay," I say finally.

"I'm just glad you know now."

He nods and pulls me into a hug.

As we embrace, I can feel his chest shaking against mine as he cries silently.

After a few moments, he pulls away and looks at me with red-rimmed eyes.

"I promise I'll do better," he says softly.

"I'll be here for you no matter what."

I nod again, trying to process everything that's happening.

"Dad, there's something else I need to tell you," I say, my voice barely above a whisper.

He looks at me, concern etched on his face. "What is it, Mohamed?"

I take a deep breath, feeling the weight of the words I'm about to say. "I think it's time we talk to Luna about everything."