It’s like, my life started the day my sisters died. Does that make sense? Everything else prior to that was just filler, just backstory. Now, I’m preparing myself to close the final page on this chapter. It makes me feel odd, like I’m sitting in front of a computer, a blank page in front of me, desperately trying to figure out what words I should use to start my new story.
“Hey,” Sin says, drawing my attention around. He’s got a framed picture of my sisters in his hand. His silver eyes are dark and as distant as my heart. He looks up to meet my gaze before passing the picture over. I very carefully place that in the box beside the cookbook. “We don’t have to do this right now if you don’t want to. In fact, I could come over here by myself and pack it all up on a different day.”
“No,” I say, resolute in my determination. I have to do this. I need this. I cannot heal if I don’t open up some of those old wounds; they have to drain. They have to leak. It isn’t pretty. Actually, it’s as disgusting as it sounds, feeling those hideous scars torn asunder just so that I can bleed all over again. “I can do this.”
I open my nightstand drawer, reaching in to grab Queenie’s sonogram.
I stare at that for a moment before putting it in the box. Another item, another memory, a different time. Sin watches me for a moment before opening my dresser drawers and frowning at the emptiness inside. Right. Because Cat took all of my clothes before I left. I’m sure he burned them all.
Doesn’t matter.
I have Posey’s old clothes, and our styles weren’t completely at odds. I’m a bit more ‘goth girl’ and she tended toward ‘girly-girl’ but we both like things a bit … revealing, a little slutty.
I’m not surprised when Nellie knocks softly on the doorjamb before coming in. Her face is a mask of pain, and her eyes are shiny with unshed tears. Looking at her now, I know that Cat made the right decision, keeping her from learning about Gaz’s death. She might not survive it. Everyone has a breaking point, and if it wasn’t the death of her daughters, it could very well be the death of her only son.
“Thought you could use a hand,” she offers up, and even though my throat gets tight, and I want to say no, I make myself nod. I’m not sure I could talk right now if I tried. My mother moves into the room, setting another empty box on the desk beside Sin’s and helping empty the drawers.
We’ve decided to leave the furniture behind. I don’t know what, exactly, our sleeping arrangements are going to be like at the farmhouse. Sin and Grainger just now got back, and we haven’t exactly had the chance to iron out details like that.
But I know that I don’t need any of this. There’s furniture in every room of that house, and I could buy myself a whole new set with the guys’ money if I wanted. A smile almost quirks my lips, but then I hear Nellie let out a small sound.
I whip around to look at her and find her with her hand pressed tight across her mouth. She has one palm braced on the surface of the desk, her body shaking with sobs.
“Mom?” I ask as Sin steps aside so that I can take his place. It almost hurts to reach out and put my hand on Nellie’s shoulder. When I say that we’ve never had a normal mother-daughter relationship, I mean that. We don’t touch casually; we don’t hug; we don’t have heart-to-heart chats.
“I’m sorry,” she whispers, removing her hand from her mouth and placing it palm down on the desk for more support. She looks ridiculously unstable right now. “This is just … it’s a lot for me.” She looks over at me, and I see that her makeup is already streaked from the hot tears dripping down her face. “Your father and I bought this house with you kids in mind, to give you a better life. To give you things we never had for ourselves. This was supposed to be a place of healing for all of us.” She turns away from me, as if she can’t bear to look at me while she talks.
“I’ll be right outside,” Sin whispers, giving my wrist a small squeeze as he passes by, stepping out to wait in the hallway. Just like old times, he leaves the door open so that he can keep an eye on me.
“Instead, my last child is leaving and I …” She trails off, her blue eyes glossy and distant. When she sways slightly, I grab onto her arm, and she turns to look at me with a sense of urgency in her face. “I knew you’d all leave eventually, but it wasn’t supposed to be like this.”
