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just wondering how many details they got correct. No, I can
tell you, because I looked up every single article when it
happened. They couldn’t say how many times we rolled. They
didn’t say anything about the torturous pain during, and after.
The kind of hell that rips a family apart. They didn’t say
anything about how my mom basically withdrew from the
world and became a ghost. How my dad couldn’t live with the
shame and withdrew almost entirely from society, even though
no one could prove anything because since he barely had a
scratch on him when he got to the hospital, no one thought to
test him for his blood alcohol content. I know none of those
articles wrote about how my older brother, who was supposed
to follow in my father’s footsteps with the company,
abandoned the family altogether as soon as he was able,
because that house was like a living hell. No, you only found
the usual. How I double majored in finance and marketing and
took over the company for my shell of a father as soon as I
could and how I’ve been running things ever since. That kind
of information is public. The shit in my head?”
Giana let that dangle there. Her words had filled up the
massive room. She’d been hiding her pain for so long. She’d
had to be strong. To survive. Had she seen her sister in that
SUV? Dead? Nine years old, a child, and lifeless? Please no.
Coralyn’s heart wept for her. Her eyes weren’t dry either. She
had no idea when she’d started crying. Giana whipped around
from her place by the bank of bookcases. Her eyes were fever
bright with pain, but dry.
“No? You didn’t know any of that?” Giana laughed, an
angry, vicious sound. “Well, I guess you do now.”
Coralyn knew Giana would despise pity, so she just looked
