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"Yes Father S, he told me about you, that he knew you"

"What did he tell you?" Nora asked

"He said you were an old friend of his Itiht And he said you were the htly "What else did he tell you?"

The boy inhaled sharply and met her eyes

"He said you’d help htly She reached out and touched the top of his foot

"Do you need help?"

The young man didn’t answer at first

Slowly, the boy relaxed his ars He started to take off his watch but his fingers fumbled too much and he exhaled in exasperation

"Sorry," he said

"Here Let me"

The boy tenuously stretched out his arasped when she discovered why he wore a watch with such a wide band

Down the center of his wrist stretched a white scar and the crosshatch outline of stitches He held out his other ar scar and stitches The wounds appeared fully healed With her knowledge of scars she guessed his suicide atteo

"Why?" she asked

"My dad, he caught me…" He took a hard breath "I had stuff in my room he found He saw the bruises and burns He said he refused to have a sicko for a son He left a couple of months later Mom--she’s not okay anymore"

"That isn’t your fault," Nora said "Your father’s the sicko, not you And he left for his own reasons My family’s fked up, too"

"I know Father S told me that, too He said we had a lot in common I couldn’t believe it when he told me he knew you"