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“I’ll take the study,” he muttered, striding off and leaving me behind.
I could’ve told him that searching there was useless. We’d already tossed the place from top to bottom searching for information about dad. But my brother didn’t listen, just limped away, his hand fisted at his side.
“Fine,” I mumbled, and turned toward the kitchen. “You want to be pissed off, then be pissed off.”
My belly howled as though it sensed exactly where I was headed. I yanked open the refrigerator door, pulling out whatever I could find as a heavythudcame from the study.
He wanted to be pissed, then let him be pissed. He still needed to damn well heal.
I slathered bread with butter, then added ham, cheese, and mayo before biting down on one, then I turned back and made two more before shoving them both in a snap-lock bag and tossing them on the counter.
Each step was agony as I climbed the stairs, pressing against the wound in my side. I was pretty sure I'd ripped something last night, charging after Ryth. The sharp pain was constant, a fucking stabbing ache. Still, I’d manage, because I wasn’t as bad as T.
My focus gravitated upwards to the top floor we shared with our sister, but I didn’t want to go there…not now. Instead, I turned and made my way to the bedroom Elle had shared with my father. If she was going to keep any kind of hidden documents, it’d be there.
I turned the handle and pushed open the door before stepping inside. It felt weird walking in. I still expected to see mom’s things lined up along the dresser and smell the faint floral scent of her perfume. Not this…
Sure as hell not this…
The room wasn’t neat and perfect, it was a damn collision. Clothes were strewn over the floor, the dresser with all her jewelry was sideways across the room as though it’d been dragged over and upended. I kicked an open suitcase still packed with half of her things…designer clothes, shoes, gold necklaces that must’ve cost dad a fortune. It was easy to see where her things went…
But she didn’t take them, did she?
She was in a damn hurry to leave, that was obvious. If she'd left all this behind, then maybe she'd left other things as well. I bent and upended the suitcase, scattering her diamond earrings and rings to the floor before I searched through them.
But there was nothing but clothes and jewelry and my focus shifted to the walk-in closet. Even from here, I could see bags waiting in the corners of the wardrobe. I rose and moved toward them, brushing my hand along the clothes still hanging before searching the pockets.
I wanted information.
That’s all.
Clothes. Shoes. I pulled them all down, moving through each of them one by one until I found a small black satin clutch hidden way in the back. One that was heavier than it should be.
I twisted the clasp, to find a small leather-bound notebook inside. “What is this?”
The clutch hit the floor at my feet as I opened the handwritten pages and started reading…
Watching her with her friends, I could almost forget how she came to be, what she represents, and her purpose in all this. But her innocence will be the very thing that makes her perfect for them. As much as I hate thinking about it, I need that more now than ever. I need her innocent and perfect. I need her because I’m backed into a corner, and I’m holding her out in front of me, hoping they’ll take her instead.
Because I cannot go back there.
Not to what they are.
Or what they do.
Jack tells me he loves me. He says he’ll protect me and he'll keep us both safe. But I don’t know what safe is anymore, maybe I never did. He looks at me like Ryth does, they want more than I can give. My soul…my heart. I can’t love them…and right now I’m too fucking weak to run.
I stopped reading as a steady thud of steps came behind me. My heart hammered. My mouth went dry.
“Find anything?” T asked from the doorway.
At first, I couldn’t speak. I couldn’t do anything but stare at that desperate scrawl, the one where a mother tried to convince herself she wasn’t the biggest monster of all. I swallowed, then just lifted the diary.
My brother took it without speaking and started to read.
“What the fuck?” he said finally.
I nodded, meeting his stare. “What the fuck indeed.”
