Page 66 of Quake
“Caleb,” Dad snapped. “You’re angry, I understand…”
“No, you don’t!” I shouted. “All these years, you’ve manipulated me and my career. It’s been about what you want. You never consulted me. When I was injured, you treated me like trash. You haven’t listened to me once since I got out of the hospital. Fuck, you never even came to see me! Not once have you thought about me or my health. Now you’ve sabotaged my relationship with Juliette. And what for? Money? Fame? Another belt to add to your collection? It’s empty, Dad. It’s motherfuckingempty.”
“You need to forget her,” he hissed. “She’s lied to you from the start. About everything.”
I felt the color drain from my face. “What are you talking about?”
“She never told you what happened to her, did she?”
I stared at him, my throat constricting. How did he know?
“Six years ago,” he declared, “she came home to find her twin sister cut up in her bed. Murdered but she wasn’t dead. Not yet. Juliette came home, found her and—”
“Stop it!” I roared, shoving him away. “Don’t you fucking say it!”
“She killed her sister, Caleb.She killed her sister.”
The world fell away as his words hit home. I was numb, my ears ringing, my heart twisting, my stomach heaving.
Dad turned and picked up a black folder from his desk. Offering it to me, he said, “Everything you need to know is in here.”
Snatching the folder from his hand, I strode from the study, through the house, and outside.
Without knowing what I was doing, I got into my car and drove away. I turned corners, stopped at traffic lights, merged onto the highway, not even knowing where I was or where I was headed. When I finally hit a dead end—at a lonely beach outside of the city—I turned off the car and allowed everything to hit me where it hurt.
Staring at the waves below, I felt like drowning.
25
Juliette
Six yearsago my twin sister was murdered.
We weren’t identical, but we may as well have been. I was there when she was born, and I was there when she died.
Every time I closed my eyes, I could see the scene play out before me like a movie, the scenes jagged but still clear.
I remembered coming home that night, heartbroken that I’d been stood up by Harry. I’d opened the front door, wallowing in my misfortune when I saw blood on the floor. My gaze traveled down the hall toward Melanie’s room, following the trail of red.
A crash followed my arrival, the sound of broken glass tinkling through the house. Melanie was home. She’d been here all night, jealous I was going out with Harry. She’d stayed in to sulk, planning to watch as many episodes ofSex and the Cityas she could, accompanied by a pile of buttered popcorn.
I didn’t think in that moment. I wasn’t in control at all. I ran toward the sound, knowing she was in trouble. I crashed into the doorjamb, jarring my arm, and that was when I found her.
I remembered the smell, the sight, and the overwhelming nausea that threatened to drown me the moment I stepped into her bedroom.
She was lying in her bed, covered in blood, pieces of flesh hanging from her body. It was all I could do not to turn and retch.
The only thing that stopped me were her eyes. They were alert and staring at me.She was still alive.
“Meg…” she moaned, her breath bubbling in her chest. “Help…”
“No, no, no, no, no…” I muttered, completely confused. What did I do?What did I do?
I fumbled for my phone, my hands shaking so bad I could hardly grasp it. Finally, I pulled it out and called Triple Zero. I pleaded with them to send the police, an ambulance, the army. Anybody. I pleaded with them to hurry, then I dropped my phone and fell to my knees beside her.
“It hurts,” she moaned. “Meg,please…”
“I…” Tears streamed down my face at the sight of my beautiful sister. The light and life of our family.
