"Matthew, hey," she pulls back slightly and puts her palm against his chest to steady herself when he starts to tremble.

"Look at me." Her thumb strokes his lips gently and he obeys her command.

"Tell me." Her warm brown eyes are full of concern.

"Is everything okay? Do you want to go home?"

Home. He almost snorts derisively at the idea. Home is a word made up by his parents, a word he never wanted to associate with his house. Their house.

Their family. It sounds too nice, too perfect, too domestic. Too much like a place he never wanted to belong in. The idea that the very air...