Page 104 of Huntsman
She inhales, then slowly releases a low yet audible breath. “I don’t remember much about… that night. Maybe I blocked most of it out? I just know what the nurses and social worker toldme when I woke up in the hospital. I had been badly beaten, with a broken arm, fractured ribs, head trauma, and a brain bleed. They thought I’d been shaken, that’s how bad the injuries were. The doctors called me a miracle of science because I recovered with almost no lasting damage.”
The familiar rage leaps to life inside me, and I want to dig up our foster father and bludgeon him to death again. The list of injuries she described? They’re horrific for a child. Little more than a baby.
“When they took you out of the house, though, I thought you were dead. They said you were gone.”
“I coded a couple of times from what I understand. So yeah, I guess I did die. And I was in the hospital for weeks. They wouldn’t let me call you or bring you to see me. I cried for you, begged them to get you, but they said seeing you would retraumatize me. By the time I could leave the hospital and they placed me in a new foster home, the social worker said you had run off and they couldn’t locate you. It wasn’t until years later that I found out you’d run after killing our foster father.”
“How did you discover that?”
“’Cause I went to kill him,” she says, so simply that if I weren’t who I am, the unbothered tone might concern me. But I am who I am. And pride flickers in my chest, not worry.
“How did you become Poison?”
“I was recruited. Creed came looking for me when I was twelve.”
“So you know about our father?” I ask.
“Yes.” She leans forward, propping her elbows on her knees. “I don’t know how they found me, but they did. When they told me about Dad’s history, I wanted what they could teach me. I don’t know if I woke up in that hospital changed or if this… darkness was inherited. Either way, I welcomed being a part of Creed. It gave me structure. Gave me purpose. Revenge. And eventually, it gave me a way back to you.”
I clench my jaw at that, swallowing the accusatory words thatsinge my tongue. But she smiles, cocking her head, those identical blue eyes roaming my face.
“You’re wondering why I didn’t reach out to you sooner. The short answer is Creed wouldn’t allow it. They believe family, relationships, they make you weak. And they constantly used Dad as an example to beat that point home. If I had contacted you, tried to form a relationship with you, it would have put a target on your back. One thing I do remember from that night and ones before it? You fought for me. Protected me. And I had to do the same for you. I owed that to you. So I settled for watching over you from a distance. It’s all I could allow myself. Until Abena took you.”
I rub a hand over my head, drag it down my face. It’s a lot to take in. Not only is my little sister alive but she’s one of the most feared assassins the world knows. She’s been watching over me like a dark angel, and I never knew it. The shock still clings to me like cobwebs, but I let myself start to believe that this isn’t a cruel fever dream. That I won’t wake up and find my sister has disappeared.
“I thought I lost you twenty-four years ago,” I say, my voice rough, serrated. “I’ve relived that night over and over again. Sometimes I’ve dreamed where I saved you, put my body between yours and Frank’s, and fought him off until the cops got there. But most times, I fail. Fail you, fail me. Fail Mom and Dad. I’m sorry, baby girl. That’s what I’ve always wanted to tell you if I ever had the chance. I’m sorry I wasn’t able to keep Frank away from you. I loved you. You were my baby sister, my last family. You are my last family. I know what you’ve told me, but that’s probably only the sanitized version of what you’ve been through these last two decades, where you’ve been, what you’ve had to do to survive. Probably the same I’ve had to do, if not worse. And I don’t care. I’m glad you did it all, baby girl. I’m glad you did every fucking thing because you’re still living and I get to see you again, get to have you in my life again.”
She blinks, and there’s surprise in her gaze. Surprise andsomething more. Uncertainty, maybe. Longing. Fear. I’m well acquainted with it all.
“I don’t know what repercussions you’re facing from Creed. But I’m warning you right now, I’m willing to go to war with the whole fucking organization to have you back in my life. I want to get to know you again. To find out if your favorite food is still apples. If you still get cranky when you’re tired. If you still need the TV on to sleep.” I huff out a laugh. “I’ve missed out on too many years to lose you again.”
Miriam glances away from me, and her jaw works, a vein at her temple throbbing.
“Yes, yes, and no. Music now,” she whispers. After a moment, she turns back to me. “I can handle Creed. You don’t fuck with the person who knows where the bodies are buried.”
I reach for her, and she stretches an arm out for me at the same time. We pull each other close and embrace again.
Thankful for us. For who we were, who we’ve become.
Letting go of what we had, what we lost.
Finally grieving my family.
My sister may not be a ghost, but in this moment, I’ve exorcised mine.
“That better be your sister you’re hugged up on.”
My head jerks up at the thin, pained, but audible words coming from the hospital bed.
Surging to my feet, I rush across the room and stare down into the beautiful eyes I’ve been begging God to open for the last three days.
Those eyes that were the first to see right through me and uncover what I tried so hard to deny and hide in my heart have opened once again.
She licks her lips and swallows.
“Mine, huh?” she whispers.
I go to speak, but nothing emerges. I had all those words for Miriam, but for Eshe, they’re lodged in my suddenly too-tightthroat, trapped by the thick tangle of emotion there. I manage a nod and lean over her, my fists pushing into the pillow on either side of her head.
