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The doctor pocketed his cash. “Very well. I’ll get you what you need, then you have the space to do with as you please.”
I followed him with my gaze as he rerouted to a bookshelf, and with his back turned, I finally got a moment to take in the room. The area appeared as an operating room, a metal board in the center with various tools on tables surrounding it. There were all kinds of operating devices, knives and blades…
She was in here.
The sickness rose again, and like wildfire, Royal returned. He placed a hand behind my arm this time, waiting while the doctor ventured over from a wall full of binders. Dr. Felton only had one when he returned.
“As always no pictures,” he said, eyeing us. “The files in here are restricted.”
“And your only copies?” Royal asked, his expression vacant, hard. I’d seen him like this enough times to know the legitimacy. He gave zero fucks if he expected something, not an act at all.
Dr. Felton nodded. “Yes. I preserved them after your last visit. They won’t be destroyed as previously requested. That is as long as payment continues?” Royal need only give this man a look, and he was placing the book on the metal table, his answer apparently given. Dr. Felton stepped back. “You have as long as you need.”
The doctor left the room, and with his absence, I felt the chill, the reality of whatever this was before me. I was about to see something and I had a feeling it was something I didn’t want to see. Royal came behind me, unzipping my coat but when he started to take it I shook my head. It may be warm in here, but I was so cold.
He put his hands on my shoulders. “I won’t do anything. Not until you’re ready.” He was leaving this to me. All of this? I shook my head again, and he brought his arms around me, his chin brushing my ear. “What do you need from me, Em?”
I needed this; my eyes closed as I embraced the weight of his arms. “What page do I need to turn to?”
“One forty-two. Do you want me to do it? I can. Just give me the word.”
I must have given him enough of one because soon, he was reaching around me. He opened that binder, and the appropriate page must have been marked because the book opened right to page 142. Getting to what Royal needed me to see was too easy.
So easy…
I covered my mouth at only a look of photos, hands that didn’t look like hands. There were only pieces… fingers and the flash of a face, bruises on cheeks and around eyes…
I can’t do this.
This wasn’t her. This wasn’t what she was supposed to be. This wasn’t my sister. This wasn’t…
“Em!”
I collapsed to the floor, and Royal came with me, holding me, squeezing me so damn tight.
“December, I’m sorry. Sorry,” he rasped, pushing back my hair as he rocked me, but sorry for what? Showing me this? My sister’s spare parts? What did this show? What could this possibly show?
“Why?” I ached, shuddering in his arms. “Why did you do this? Why would you show me this!”
“Because it’s the truth.” He ached too, his deep voice so thick and pained. “It’s everything. Paige, she… Paige had bruises. Bruises around her wrists and forearms. Her neck…”
Her neck?
“It all shows signs of trauma,” he continued. “Do you understand me?”
I didn’t understand, and he pulled back my hair, clearing it from my ear when he leaned in.
“The bruises were everywhere, Em. Her waist and in between her legs…” Royal shook his head. “There’s trauma everywhere—”
“What are you trying to say!” I turned around, and he let go of me. I’d never seen such torture on his face, such raw emotion, when he squeezed his eyes.
He dropped his hand. “I’m saying your sister was dragged by a train, yeah. But there’s a binder full of evidence that shows she was dead before it even came down the track.”
Five
One year ago
Paige
