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“Nah, you’re just related to one.”
That was it.
That was fucking it.
I couldn’t take this anymore.
“He is not my brother.” My entire body trembled and shook as I glared back at her. “That asshole is nothing to me. He’s not my blood. He’s not my brother. He’s not my goddamn anything, so don’t you dare keep throwing him in my face!”
“He killed my sister!”
“Do you think you’re the only person to ever lose their sister?” I roared, throwing my hands up in frustration. “I lost my sister, too, Lizzie! I buried my sister and my father!”
“They drowned,” she spat out. “Accidentally. It’s not the same thing. Nobody hurt them. Not like my sister or Shannon’s mam.”
“Oh, I’m so fucking sorry my family didn’t die in more gruesome circumstances,” I choked out, trembling. “Shit, maybe Beth should have drifted into the motor of the boat after she drowned, at least then we’d have a little blood and gore for the sob story.”
“You know I didn’t mean it like that.”
“You don’t know what you mean, because you haven’t thought clearly a day since she died,” I shot back. “You’re programmed on pain and bitterness. I’ve tolerated your bullshit for years because I knew how you felt. Because I know how it feels. But you crossed the line coming in here and pushing Claire around. Now, the rest of our friends can keep handing out hall passes for your horrendous behavior, Lizzie, and I’m not taking it anymore. Do you hear me? I am not walking this line with you another day of my goddamn life!”
“Jesus Christ, what’s going on in here? I can hear you from the street,” Hugh demanded, storming into the room. “Why are you in your underwear?” he asked, glaring at his sister. “And what the hell are you wearing?”
“Don’t look at me like that,” I huffed when his accusatory gaze landed on me. “I was in the middle of a performance.” Ripping off the boa, I pointed a finger in Lizzie’s direction. “If you want to know what’s wrong, ask her.”
“No, no, no, this is on me, guys. This is all my fault,” Claire blurted out as she quickly threw on her pajamas. “I shouldn’t have gone to her house.” Turning to Lizzie, she said, “I’m so sorry, Liz. You’re right. I shouldn’t have gone to your house.”
“You went to her house?” Hugh frowned in confusion. “Why?”
“Not me,” I huffed, appalled that he would even think such a thing. I hadn’t been to that house in almost six years, and I never planned to step foot inside the door ever again. Not that I would be welcome either way. “Claire.”
“Why?”
“How the fuck would I know?” I threw my hands up. “She just barged in here all guns a-blazing.” Shrugging I added, “This is the first I’m hearing of any of this.”
“I thought I was doing the right thing,” Claire continued, ignoring her brother as she gingerly approached her furious friend. “I’m so sorry if I made things worse for you.”
“He didn’t even apologize,” Lizzie strangled out, entire body heaving with shudders, as her emotions got the better of her. Collapsing in a heap, she stared aimlessly at the floor. “Mark Allen raped his girlfriend. His girlfriend who was my sister. He raped her, and then she killed herself because of it. Because she couldn’t live with what he did. And then he got to walk away and live his life while my sister’s defiled body rots in the ground.” Tears trickled down her cheeks when she looked up at me. “She’ll never get to grow up. She’ll never turn nineteen. She’ll never get married and have children. She’ll never do any of the things he gets to do, and he never even said sorry!”
Frozen to the bone, I absorbed her words like knives to the heart. Because they hurt. They fucking tortured me. Her narrative might be worlds apart from mine but there was no disputing the sincerity in her tone when she spoke her truth. Because she believed her version of events. Meaning nothing I could ever say or do would change or make it better for her.
As she sobbed like a small child on the floor, I felt my beating heart crack and splinter.
There was no fixing this.
Nothing would ever improve between us.
There would be no white flag.
Because Lizzie had her version of events, and I had mine.
She had the horror story versed off by heart, the one that made Caoimhe the victim and him the monster, while all I had was a crumpled-up letter under my mattress and the truth.
“I’m sorry,” Claire pleaded, as she hovered around her friend, petting and coddling her like a mother would a small child. “It’s going to be okay.”
Unlike earlier, Lizzie didn’t push and shove at Claire’s attempts to comfort her. Instead, she just sat on the floor with her arms wrapped tightly around my knees and sobbed quietly.
“Gibs,” Hugh said, clearing his throat. “Maybe you should…”
