Page 40 of Her Wicked Plan

“What about your parents?” It’s risky to ask about them, but seeing as she opens up about her sister, I need to try.

“They took her side.” Her eyes leave mine to look around the office. “Golden child and all. I think they were relieved they had the opportunity to send me away. They didn’t have to deal with me anymore and could let someone else do it. I’m sure they probably forgot all about me. A life without Demon Veronica.”

“Your parents called you that?” Hurt laces in my voice for the woman before me. The emotion wraps around my throat and squeezes tight. There is no reason to call her that, even with what she has done.

“My sister did. When we were younger. I was ten, and she was fourteen. Stephanie had her tight-knit group of friends and was ashamed of me when her friends were over. I was different. Always had been, and she hated that. She wanted a normal sister growing up to play Barbies with. Not a sister who would tear their heads off and dangle them from her bedroom ceiling with strings.” Veronica giggles at the memory. “She was terrified of the decorations and upset that I dismembered her dolls. When she confronted me about it, I only laughed. She told me I was sick and twisted.”

“So she gave you that nickname?”

“Our parents were more on the religious side. I never wanted to attend church every Sunday morning because what the hell was the point? I don’t believe in that shit, and I made it known to my family. Stephanie had told me that there was no way I was our parents’ daughter and that my mother couldn’t have birthed me. She said that I was sent up from Hell—a child of Satan. A demon sent to wander the earth and terrorize those who habit it.”

My heart breaks a little for her. She didn’t deserve to be treated that way, but after speaking the last sentence, her face was filled with a proud grin.

“It didn’t hurt, the things she called me.” Veronica searches my eyes, seeing the sadness filling them. “Even with the nasty things she said to me when her friends were around, Stephanie was still my older sister. It got to the point where I wanted to do everything I could to protect her. I’m not sure why, given how cruel she was to me. Maybe it was to prove I differed from what she thought.”

“Which is why you killed her boyfriend.” It was more of a statement than a question.

“He was a dick and didn’t deserve her.” Her jaw clenches tight. “Being the golden child, she deserves the best. She wasn’t meant to be with him.”

“Is seeing your sister something you would want?” Veronica’s whole body tenses at the question.

“Even if I did, she wouldn’t show.”

“What if you wrote her a letter? Write everything you feel now or felt in the past. You don’t have to send it if you don't want to. It might be therapeutic to write it all down.”

“And then do what with it?”

“Crumble it up and throw it away. Flush it down the toilet.”

“Burn it?” Excitement fills her voice.

“That wouldn’t be an option here.”

“Bummer.” She huffs. “I guess it wouldn’t hurt to write the letter. And if I decide I want to send it?”

“Then I will get it sent out," I reassure her.

Her head is nodding slowly, debating on what to do. “Okay, I’ll write a letter.”

Progress.

“Good.” I let a smile form on my lips. “I almost forgot, I have something for you.”

Veronica's eyebrow pops up with curiosity while she watches me open the top drawer. I remove the new journal and slide it over the desk's surface. Her eyes drop to the object and then back up to me.

“Your other one got ruined with the pen you were using. I figured I would get you a new one.”

“Why?” She hasn’t made a move to pick it up.

“Seeing as it happened when we first met, I felt it was my fault it got ruined.” Reaching into the same drawer, I reveal a silver Sharpie. “I remember reading in your file that you liked to draw. I figured you could use this to make your own cover.”

Veronica stares at the Sharpie I set next to her new journal. My gaze falls to her chest, rising and falling heavily. Her throat bobs as she swallows. “Thank you.”

“There's no need to thank me,” I say dismissively. “You can write a letter to your sister in that.”

“I can’t.” She immediately turns down my suggestion. “If I do, I’d have to tear the pages out, and the journal would be ruined again.”

Interesting.