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I’m supposed to be protecting Cole.
And I will do exactly that until my last damn breath.
She’s right. If it wasn’t for Sienna, I would have never snitched on Cole. I would have never betrayed his trust and told our father that he was getting addicted to morphine. I would have tried to keep him home, but still help him.
But once Sienna made her intentions obvious, I knew I had to get Cole out of here.
Even if it meant lying to my twin and breaking his trust.
He can never know the truth.
He will never know the truth behind my betrayal.
But now he’s back home, and I need to keep Sienna’s attention on me.
Her obsession started the night of the accident. I think it must have begun before that, but she only made it known then. I only saw the truth then, and it was too late.
Sienna had asked me to trust her. I did.
Sienna had told me she would help Cole and me.
I believed her.
Bitterness fills my lungs as she lowers herself onto me. Hate is poison, and that’s exactly how poisonous Sienna feels to me. She has taken all control from me and the frustration that comes with this realization settles in the pit of my stomach like acid.
Something so dangerous, it burns through me. Breaking apart my vital organs, scorching under my flesh and igniting a fury that’s akin to an uncontrollable inferno. It finds the darkest corner of my soul, turning it into a home that is built on the wreckage of my heart.
I just never realized that I would become indebted to her in ways that I would have never expected. Her help came with a price.
And that price was me.
I owed her. For her lies and for covering the truth of the accident.
And I paid with my body.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Riley — 17 years old (Junior year, again)
I like fall as much as I used to like spring. The fallen leaves, the barren trees, all the pretty colors before it fades into gray. The earthy smell of the rain and humid grass. The warmth that is accompanied by a chilly, autumn breeze. The festive spirit as people get ready for Halloween.
Halloween is my favorite holiday, with Christmas being my least favorite, for obvious reasons. Christmas used to always be so dull and cold at home.
When I was nine years old, my love for everything Halloween had me believing that I was probably a sorceress in my past life. I had even created an elaborate story in my head of a fantasy world, where I was the most enchanting sorceress of a forbidden land. I rode a mighty dragon, and I could cast pretty spells. I fell in love with the villain, because the prince is boring.
The villain and I lived happily ever after.
But it was all a pretty fairy tale.
In this life, I haven’t met the prince yet. And the villain? Well…there’s nothing charming about the villain in my story.
Dr. Bailey’s words echo in my ears, reminding me to stay strong once I step back into the outside world. I was in rehab far longer than I was supposed to be there. I watched as my friends slowly healed and then left, to conquer their lives. To start anew, with solid goals and prettier dreams.
But me?
I was left behind. Alone with my dark thoughts.
Once I reached thethree-month mark, they extended my program for another three months. It wasn’t because Dr. Bailey thought I needed the extra attention or help for my bulimia recovery and anxiety disorder.
