“So why didn’t you?” I slip my hand beneath my skirt, pulling my gun from the holster and resting it on the patio table.
I expected to feel angrier with him, but I guess when I let go of the Westerly name and its importance, the people who betrayed the name start to matter less. Still, it stings knowing he was throwing me under the bus and not caring where I landed.
“How could you?”
He sighs, sitting forward in the chair, looking at me for the first time. “They didn’t give me a choice.”
“There’s always a choice.”
“You know what happened to my father when he went to prison? He turned into someone’s bitch and then was mutilated and hung from the rafters. He still gets mocked to this day.” He shakes his head. “You think I want to end up like that? I’ve been forced to live a life like him. I don’t want to die like him too.”
“So you made a deal,” I add.
He nods. “So I made a deal.”
I tap my fingers on the top of my Eagle. “You know, you’re really nothing but a coward.”
Smoke billows from his nostrils. “You’re right. I am. And it fuckin’ terrifies me. I lived my whole life lookin’ up to my dad. He was it, a god to me. And he’d be disgusted by who I’ve become… But I am who I am.”
I don’t respond, not having it in me to fight. And while the betrayal is still there, I understand living in your father’s shadow and wanting to break free. I can’t begrudge him that, as much as I might wish to.
“Are you going to kill me?” he asks when I stand up and grab my gun.
“No,” I sigh. “But I never want to see you again. Living with the shame of knowing you’ll never be half the man your father was is more painful than any torture I could offer.” Moving around the table, I stop in front of him. “One day, Ezekiel, I hope you find your peace.”
“I don’t deserve your empathy,” he whispers, staring down at his lap.
I swallow around the knot in my throat. “No… you don’t. But I’m giving it to you anyway.”
Re-holstering my gun, I walk past him and into the woods. Who cares if he sees where I’m going at this point.
38
EVELINE
I spent three hours setting up the space before texting my sister and asking her to meet me here, so I could “show her the ropes,” since I blew her off yesterday. I’m going to enjoy watching her die.
My legs are crossed and my eyes closed as I sit calmly in the center of the hallway, directly outside the greenhouse door. The small pitter-patter of feet walking down the hidden closet’s staircase makes my ears perk up, excitement tingling down my spine. I’ve been waiting years for this moment.
I peel my eyes open, grinning as I look up at her. “Hello, Dorothy.”
“What are you doing?” she glances around. “Where’s Dad?”
“He’ll be here,” I say calmly, standing up. I move toward the door to press my fingerprint on the scanner, but Dorothy beats me to it. The light turns green, everything unlocking. My forehead wrinkles, realizing Cody must not have been able to hack into the system yet.
Not that it matters anymore.
She traipses into the greenhouse, her nose scrunching up as she looks at all of the poppies. “You know, for beautiful flowers, they really don’t smell that good, do they?”
“Subjective, I guess.” I murmur, my black skirt swishing as I move past her. “This way.”
I lead her down the two acres of flowers, flourishing in their various stages, and to the lab in the back, flicking on the lights and making my way to the metal table in the center of the room where my chemistry set is. I already have everything prepared.
“Wow, this is… intense,” she muses as she walks around, her eyeball magnified as she stares through a beaker.
“Yep,” I reply, pouring water into a small metal bowl as well as some of the raw opium I’ve recently finished extracting.
“What are you doing?” She hovers over the table to try and get a better look. “You should be explaining things, right? How am I supposed to learn otherwise.”
I smile at her. “Just getting things set up so I can show you how they work.”
“Oh. Okay.” She lifts a brow. “You’re being weird.”
“You know,” I say, taking the container and placing it over the Bunsen burner, slowly turning up the heat. “I want to apologize to you, Dorothy. I was out of line the other day. I don’t know what I was thinking.”
Her eyes narrow.
I laugh, watching the opium melt into liquid form. “Something you said that night on the boat really stuck with me.”
“Really?” Her tone is disbelieving.
“Really,” I repeat, removing the liquid from the burner and grabbing the needle at my side. “You said that maybe if I dove in after Nessa’s shoes, they’d take me home to her. And in that moment, I was tempted, because nothing’s ever felt like home to me the way Nessa did.”
“I did us all a favor.” She scoffs. “Nessa was a bitch.”
I throw back my head and laugh. It’s high pitched and tense, and even to my ears, it sounds piercing.
Dorothy’s eyes widen. “You’re fucking crazy.”
“Yeah.” I grin. “That’s what they say.”
Drawing back the plunger, I suck up the liquid opium, then hold the needle up to the light and flick the side, getting rid of air bubbles. “Wanna see?” I ask, holding it out to her.
She leans in. “Hm. Fascinating.”
“Anyway,” I continue. “I thought about how silly it would be for me to do that… to let you win. Even if it was my greatest heart’s desire to be with Nessa.”
I meander around the table, the needle at my side. Her eyes are flicking to it and then to me and she backs up a step.
“So the next time I ache for something I love? I’m not going out of my own backyard.” The toes of my shoes press against the tips of hers. “And I’d really, really, love to see you die.”
Bringing up the needle, I jab it into her neck, sticking the plunger so the opium pours into her bloodstream.
Her eyes frow round, her mouth dropping on a scream as she flails. I reach up, delight swimming through my veins as I cock back my fist and swing it forward, punching her right in the face until she drops to the ground.
Pain spreads through my knuckles and I shake out my hand, grabbing her stupid bouncy brown ponytail, the way I’ve dreamed of doing for years, ripping it from her scalp as I drag her over to the table. She’s crying and flailing, but I’ve got a good grip, and I turn around, enjoying the way her blood is pouring from her nose and staining her baby-blue top. I kick her in the side, then press my heel on top of her, sinking all of my weight until the satisfying pop of skin pushes my boot through. She screams again, her hands coming up to dig into my leg and I reach over quickly, picking up the zip ties I placed there just for this occasion.
As the opium starts to rush through her veins, she slackens.
“That’s right,” I coo, brushing the back of my hand down her face and then tying her wrists together before moving to her ankles. “Go to sleep for a bit, sweet sister. Don’t worry, I won’t do anything fun for another couple hours.”