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A stray tear falls down her face before she opens her eyes, trauma clear in her expression. “Dell, Ronny, and Bert. One after the other after the other. Again and again and fucking again. I don’t know how long it went on, but I know they only stopped once the sun started to come up.” She shakes away whatever it is she is feeling talking about this and her expression turns…blank, void of emotion completely. “I got dressed and took the long way home. Afterwards, I felt so broken I wanted to die, but I was glad for one thing. I was glad you got the flu because, if you hadn’t, it would’ve been you, not me.”
Tears fill my eyes, my heart so full of negativity and pain that it might burst, and I just want to erase her pain. My poor sister.
“That’s why you hated him so much, isn’t it?”
She slowly shakes her head. “No, I hated him because I thought he was doing that to you and you were keeping quiet about it.”
Xander stiffens below me and I know why. Her hypothesis is something he’s never thought of as a possibility. It’s something that never occurred to me either.
“He never did that to me,” I admit.
I can tell by her posture relaxing and the tension leaving her face that she just realized the nightmare she was just experiencing was only a dream.
“Now, I really wish I’d kicked him in the balls when I saw him earlier,” I announce playfully, but I’m not kidding at all. If I had known Dell did this to my sister, I would’ve stabbed him for hurting her.
“You saw him?” Gillian gapes at me, her face turning white.
“Yeah, when Xander and I were eating lunch. He thought I was you so I gave him my best Gillian Murdoch impression.” I grin victoriously, but my body is too weak to do anything else. “But, why tell me now? Why didn’t you tell me years ago?”
“I figured, if I told you about the worst thing that’s ever happened to me, you might tell me the worst thing that’s ever happened toyou,” she confesses, pain and pleading in her crystal blue eyes.
It’s a game of give and take. She’s trusting me with her trauma story. All she wants in return is mine.
“Not in front of Xander,” I refuse, though I know if he wasn’t here, I’d give her a rough version like she gave me.
“Hey!” Xander groans in protest.
“You’d go off and kill your father if I told you,” I retort before looking up at him. His expression is thoughtful before he shrugs nonchalantly.
“I have no problems with doing that.”
I roll my eyes, exasperated. “Of courseyoudon’t, Sunshine, but other people would.”
He doesn’t say anything about my sass, but runs his fingers through my curls, placing chaste kisses along my hairline. “You should get some rest. Did you sleep at all last night?” he questions, worry clear in his gruff voice.
“I will have you know I closed my eyes many times…to blink,” I joke, but even I know the joke isn’t funny. Sleep deprivation isn’t funny or a pleasant thing to experience. I’ve been hanging on by a thread all damn day.
“Okay. Off to bed with you.”
I whine as Xander lifts me up in his arms. I don’t want to sleep when everyone else is awake. We have more to talk about, but I know he won’t hear any of that. I could fight him on it, but I know he’s right. I’ve gone too long without sleep and I’ll be useless without it.
He carries me to the bedroom and takes me straight to our bed. After laying me down, he pulls down my sweatpants then tugs my hoodie over my head, the piece of photo paper fluttering down out of the pocket. If I wasn’t so exhausted, I might be freaked out, but really, I knew we’d need to address it sooner or later.
I turn to face him and press my cheek into the pillow as Xander picks up the photo and his normally tanned face pales, his eyes wide, stretching across the angry scar over his eye.
“Where did you get this?” he asks, his tone mildly accusing.
I smirk. “Gillian gave it to me.”
“Why did she have it? Where did she get it?” he asks, taking a seat beside me on the bed.
Even though my arms feel like they’re weighed down, I point out the people in the picture. “That’s my mom,” I admit then move over to the grouchy girl off to the side. “That’s Gillian.” Finally, I make it to the little girl in pigtails clinging on to the grumpy teenager glaring at the camera like it offended him somehow. “That’s me.”
As if he’s seen a ghost, Xander’s hazel eyes turn to me, surveying for any sign of dishonesty. “That’s you?” His fingers reach out and trail along the line of my jaw, a gesture that would’ve been disarming if I wasn’t already relaxed.
“Apparently, my mom and your mom were best friends in high school, or something like that. My dad found out about your mom being mixed up with the Black Stallions and threatened to divorce my mom if she didn’t stay away from Davina. My dad always had this over the top distaste for the Black Stallions specifically. I don’t really know why, to be honest,” I explain truthfully.
His eyes flash across the picture again, confusion clear on his face, before he looks back at me. “What was your dad’s name?” he probes.
