Page 76 of Under the Bed

My jaw clenches at what I see on the first page. A contract between her and her dad. A signed agreement states that Shiloh is prohibited from contacting, responding to, or being interviewed by any media outlet.

In exchange for allowing her to live here, in Seattle.

So that’s why she stayed away. The bastard refused to let her come back home.

She found a way to manipulate him anyway, my clever sister.

The man is beyond obsessed with appearances. Even that indie reporter Jerome warned me about has gone silent. It has to be him.

Shiloh could’ve ruined the miserable control freak with the snap of her fingers. She could’ve told the press a story so tragic they’d be salivating for an exclusive. Or they’d go over theireditors’ heads altogether and get her an exclusive book deal. Anything.

Instead, she signed this contract.

She twisted his arm so he’d step down and let her come home.

Close to me.

Fuck her dad. Fuck this contract.

Once I’m done letting out years of frustration and making her truly mine, we’re taking him down.

Which has been the plan all along. Him and my doormat of a mother.

Thoughts of a bright future together are cut abruptly when I turn the pages of the binder.

These are letters.

Addressed to me.

She wrote the date on the top of each page. The first one is dated eleven years ago.

I flip through them. The last one is from a year ago.

She’s been writing to me. Letters she couldn’t send. Or maybe she’d been too afraid to send them. Contacting a monster is dangerous.

Finally, though, they’re in my possession. The letters I’ve been desperate for.

The warmth in my chest. The heat behind my eyes.

What the fuck is this?

I’m weak for them. For her.

I should go back to her bedroom. Hurt her until she wakes up from her drug-induced sleep. Act like myself.

I won’t be so alone once she’s up.

But myfeet are planted on the floor. My fingertips trace the old paper of that first letter. My eyes fixate on the words.

Kaleb,

I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.

For everything.

For not screaming in the court because it hurt when Daddy slapped me.

For being sad when you’re the one who’s locked up.

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