I wanted Phobos to yell back at me. Like Dionysos always said, our family was the most normal it could be when we were yelling and railing and fighting. It was when we all went silent that something was truly wrong. And when Phobos gave a hard glare but didn’t say a word, I knew that I had fucked up.
Anger. No. Rage. Frustration. Betrayal. Sadness. Confusion. Fear. I felt like either I had lost my mind or that everyone else had. Both prospects were frightening.
I turned around to look through the wood bucket again when I felt something stab me in the back of my right arm. With my left hand, I reached around and felt a knife.
