“Why are you wet?” X asks me, his tone dark with suspicion. “Kota, if there’s something going on, you need to tell us. We can help you.”
I ignore him.
As much as I don’t want to do this, it might help with the Maxx Wright problem I’m having. He says he believes me, but after this, he’ll be too angry to think straight. He’ll start to despise me, and he’ll leave me alone. At least … I hope so. I have to pretend there’s some silver lining to all this, or I’ll break.
My sister has always been my rock. She’s the most pure and perfect person I have ever met. Blood related or not, she’s a genuine human with a soul crafted of all those things that the Seattle Slayer just mocked. Compassion and love, empathy and kindness.
This is going to destroy her.
I close my eyes.
My words, when they do come, are wooden and disconnected, like parts of a puppet as easily manipulated as Mr. Volli.
“You are not my real sister.”
There it is. The phrase drops from my mouth like an atomic bomb, decimating everything in its path. I cannot bear to open my eyes right now. I cannot bear to see Maxine’s face.
“Wha… Dakota, what’s going on?” She sounds panicked, desperate. One of her soft, warm hands touches my arm and I jump. I hear the sound of chair legs scraping across the floor. It’s X, I know it is, even without looking.
“Why would you say something like this?” he breathes, but I don’t care about him right now. Only Maxine. My sister comes first.
“You never were. Maxine, I thought I loved you, but really, I was just obligated. We were family; I had no choice but to feel that way. But now, I do. I have a choice.” Open your eyes, coward, my heart hisses. Because if my sister’s hurting then I deserve to hurt, too. I deserve that and more. I flick my eyes open to find Maxine sitting there, staring at me with huge, fat tears streaming down her pretty face. “I don’t want to see you anymore.” Here my voice cracks, shatters, twists into something ugly and hateful. I’m crying now, too. I fling her arm off of me. “I don’t want to talk to you; I don’t want to see you.”
“Why are you … why would you say those things to me?” she asks, struggling to catch a breath. She’s starting to pant, putting her hands on the table and staring down at the well-worn surface. Maxx is just … he’s quivering with anger, looking at me like I’m a crazy person.
I must’ve really exceeded his expectations today.
Wonder if he’s as confident in me now as he was last night? Or if he’s regretting apologizing to me. I would be, if I were him.
I’ve done what I needed to do; there’s nothing more to say. I stare Maxine down, keeping our gazes locked, hoping beyond all hope that she’ll let this go, that she’ll walk away and keep herself safe. I couldn’t bear it if she ended up like Parrish, tied to a chair and bleeding to death. I need her to walk away until this is over.
“Dakota, this is bullshit. I’ve told Maxine everything that I know, all the strange things you’ve been doing since Parrish went missing. Neither of us believes that you mean any of the things you’ve been saying or doing. Whatever’s happening, you can trust us.”
“Leave me the fuck alone,” I grind out, realizing suddenly that Maxx is the one that brought me here. I need to call Chasm for a ride. I ignore them both, pulling my phone out and sending a quick text. Please come get me quickly. At the coffee shop.
He responds so fast that I catch the message before slipping the phone back in my pocket.
OMW Little Sister.
“I don’t know why you’re saying these things to me, but for the record, I don’t believe any of them.” Maxine rises to her feet, tears still streaming down her face. I do my very best not to look at her. There’s nothing I can do about the tears on my own face, but I keep my gaze focused on the table, as if I truly don’t care that I’ve just hurt the person I love the most in all the world. “We’ll talk about this later, but I’m … I’m hurt right now. I just … I need to go.”
She grabs her canvas bag and takes off; X follows after like the good boyfriend that he is. He truly cares about my sister, that much is obvious. I’m glad that she has someone to take care of her right now; she deserves that.
I put my elbows on the table and my face in my hands. Every time I think that things can’t get any worse, they do. This is harder than finding a dead girl in a box, than delivering her body to her murderer’s house, than discovering Mr. Volli is on this, or shooting a corpse. This is the worst of all.
