“When Dad was home, things were great. When he wasn’t, they weren’t. Mom was—is, dependent on her prescriptions, for good and bad reasons. The stuff she’s on now helps, as long as she takes them properly. Paige helps with that. Back then though, my mother self-medicated. If you know anything about pills, well, let’s just say they tend to bring about mood swings of some pretty damn erratic highs and lows.”
“Is that why she was placed here?” Nicolae asked, reaching for Dustin’s hand and pulling him back to the chair when it was secured.
“No.” Dustin flopped. “She attacked me.” He pulled up his shirt and held Nicolae’s hand against his stomach, against the scar that marred his torso. Nicolae’s fingers sought it out, ran over and around it. “Knife. We had an argument. A pretty nasty one. She lost her cool and slashed me.”
Nicolae’s brow tightened. “That is a bad one.”