I stared through the glass panel in the courtroom door. At the back of Brian’s head.
“He tried to bargain with you,” I said slowly. “Using my things?”
“Yes.”
“And when you refused?”
Dad’s jaw tightened. The muscle in his cheek jumped.
“That’s when he said, ‘Then maybe nobody gets the mirror.’”
Everything suddenly made sense.
The mirror hadn’t been broken during a random fit of anger. It hadn’t fallen off the wall while he was moving furniture. It hadn’t been an accident.
He’d thrown it. He’d planned to throw it the moment my father said no.
Ezoic
Brian had destroyed the one thing he knew I could never replace. Not because he wanted it. Because he knew I did.
Ezoic
That was what he’d been fighting for all those months. Not the mirror. The power to take it away from me.
