Page 117 of The Unravelings

Rage consumes every molecule in my body, like fire swallowing me whole. My fingers tighten around his phone as I stare at the pictures some asshole posted straight to SlamApp. I ignore the comments. I ignore the room I’m in. I ignore the breaths roaring in and out of my flared nostrils.

The only thing I can focus on is the images of her.

Meredith.

My sister.

They’re close up. Displaying her delicate features on zoom. The small slope of her nose. Her long brown hair curled and prettied up. Makeup sits on her face, brighter than she’d wear it. Her fingers interlock over her stomach, displaying the small shooting star tattoos she got on her index fingers.

“Look!” she says with a grin, extending her left hand to me. “I got my first tattoos last night. Aren’t they pretty? Shooting stars, Mal.”

“Well, well,” I hum, checking both of her fingers over and making sure I don’t touch the fresh ink. “Shooting stars, huh? Good fortune. Dreams coming true…”

She grins more, taking her hand away from me. “It’s a…” She hesitates for a moment. “It’s a rebirth. A fulfillment of all my dreams coming true.” Her eyes are glued to the new tattoos lining the outside of her index fingers. “Everything seems to be finally clicking into place. Next week, I’ll graduate from nursing school.”

My jaw clenches as I go over the pictures. One time. Ten times. Twenty times. Obsessively checking every goddamn detail of the pictures. Her. Meredith. Lying on a sheet of white, illuminating her innocence. Delicate pillows prop her head up. Blue lips. Stitches on her eyes, almost blending in with her lashes.

It’s almost as if she’s in a goddamn casket already.

Dead.

Alert! Another body in Greenwood! **Pictures Attached**

Caption: The snake wears a smile, hiding its secrets behind the mask of a friend, biting the innocent who step too close to the den.

My eyes refuse to leave the proof of my sister’s existence. She lived. Really lived. She was innocent, vulnerable, and I fucking let her die.

I failed her.

No one else.

Me.

“My fault!” I shout to the void, tossing Wilder his phone without care. “She never fucking would have…” My chest heaves several times, and I shake my head. The rage I felt before when I was in the basement is tenfold now. It courses through me like an inferno, destroying everything in its path.

That’s what I want to fucking do. Destroy. Everything.

My world dims.

My fingers tremble.

My blackened heart shrivels further into my chest, sucking every fucking emotion into it like a black hole. Except for the rage. It’s still there. Simmering beneath my flesh. My fingers curl into fists. I throw my head back, roaring toward the ceiling and letting my anger and anguish bleed through me. I pull at my hair, growling when a hand lands on my shoulder and gently squeezes.

“Malic,” Wilder whispers like he’s talking to an injured animal primed for attack.

“I will find that beady little snake and tear his goddamn eyes out!” I shout, throwing my fist into a hanging bag. Over and over. I let my rage consume me more until I’m left huffing and puffing. “I will find who fucked with my sister. Is she…” I swallow hard, not wanting to say the words despite seeing the evidence in the photos.

“Prepare for the worst,” Wilder whispers the words he said to me over the course of our search for Meredith.

Prepare for the worst. Prepare for her imminent death. All those hopes of my sister on a grand vacation, lying on the beach after escaping this hellhole fucking town. Escaping the life I never fucking wanted for her.

“She was innocent,” I hiss through clenched teeth, looking back at Wilder. “A goddamn nurse! She saved lives! And now… And now!” I shout, throwing more punches into the hanging bag so I don’t take them out on my fucking keeper.

It’s hard to recognize anything right now, but the pain is constantly consuming me. It thrives inside me now, boiling through my veins and darkening my vision. Every molecule inside me screams for relief.

“She was,” Wilder says, breaking through my spiral. “She was an innocent who saved so many people.”

My shoulders bunch with every heavy breath I take. The cool material of the hanging bag rests against my forehead as I attempt to collect myself. I’ve never had to reel myself back in before. That’s what my fucking keeper is for. Only this time, he’s the one who delivered the blow of all fucking blows.