Dad turns to me, his face calm. “I’ll be right back, Addie,” he says softly, his voice trying to reassure me, but I hear something different beneath it. “Stay in the car and lock the doors. I won’t be long.”
His words don’t settle me. I nod, but my fingers tremble on the door handle. He doesn’t see it. He doesn’t see how everything in my body is screaming that this isn’t right.This is wrong. This is so wrong.
Addie
Four years ago
In my bedroom, I’ve almost finished the remainder of my homework. Honestly, I’m really proud of my progress lately. My grades have improved drastically, and my teachers tell me they’re proud too. Sometimes, I wish my parents would too, but lately it seems as though their world revolves solely around Mason. Especially Mother, who seems to care about absolutely everything apart from her youngest daughter.
I glance over at the door to my room, a soft pang in my chest.Wouldn’t it be nice if someone looked at me like they were proud of me?But no. The only one they seem to care about lately is Mason. Mason and his successes. Mason and his competitions. Mason and his… everything.
I try not to let the bitterness linger. I try not to mind that my mother’s attention has shifted entirely onto him, that I’ve become a ghost in this house. But sometimes, it hurts. Sometimes, I want to scream.
The sound of the door opening and slamming shut downstairs pulls me from my thoughts, and I freeze.What was that?It sounds a bit scary, so I’m guessing it’s probably Naomi angry about something again. Except her footsteps don’t sound like that. This sounds… off.
I hesitate, heart pounding, then creep down the stairs, trying to make myself small, trying to remain unnoticed, I’m pretty good at that. I round the corner into the kitchen, and to my surprise, I see Mason.
He’s pacing around the kitchen like a crazy person and acting a bit stranger than usual. A bottle dangles loosely from his hand, and I can see the blood, fresh and dark, smeared across his cheek, dripping down his nose like it’s nothing. He’s bleeding. But he doesn’t even seem to notice.
My stomach churns as I watch him. The sight of him, whether it’s his movements, or his eyes… something makes him so far removed from the brother I once knew. It fills me with a cold,nameless dread. I open my mouth, but the words feel stuck. “Mace?” My voice shakes despite myself. I try to hide my shock, to act like I’m not terrified.
When he finally looks at me, my breath catches in my throat. I recognize that look, I’ve seen that look before and it scared me more than anything.
His eyes are bloodshot, wild, and there’s something in them that makes the air in the room feel thick, suffocating. A flicker of recognition, or maybe something darker, flashes across his face. And in that moment, I realize just how far gone he is.
Who even are you?
He starts moving toward me, and I instinctively take a step back, my body screaming for space, away from the boy that’s supposed to be my brother. But my feet won’t move fast enough. His grip on my wrist is tight, too tight, and I stumble toward him. He pulls me in so close, I can smell the alcohol on his breath. There’s something else, though. Something rotten and unfamiliar, a sickness that seems to radiate from him. His sweat is slick on his forehead, and for a moment, he looks like he’s about to break.
But then, just as suddenly, he lets go, making me almost fall backward. Mason wipes his mouth and laughs a bit manically. “I can’t even look at you,” he spits and glares at me with the kind of disgust I’d expect from my classmates, not my brother.
The bottle in his hand crashes against the wall next to me with such force that I flinch, my whole body jolting with the impact.
“Get out of my sight before I do something I regret,” he warns, and his voice is hollow and dark, and I wonder what the hell happened to him.
I don’t need to be told twice. Racing up the stairs, I retreat to my room, heart pounding, and wondering what I managed to do wrong this time.
I just sit there, curled up in a ball and leaning against the door, listening to the tortured sounds of my brother echoing from downstairs; wishing I could help, but knowing he doesn’t love me enough for that.
EIGHTEEN
What were the chances that both my father’s and Wren’s deaths occurred on the same day, at nearly the same time? Coincidence? Yeah, right. Is that what the sender of those messages wanted me to find out?
That there really is something more to my father’s case than what was announced to the public?
Walking to my Business class, the feeling won’t leave me alone. Something doesn’t add up about this entire thing—like there really is a detail that I’m missing. A detail that the person behind the messages seems to know. How is it they know, and I don’t?
Was it even an accident?
And more importantly, why? Why sendmethose vague texts? I’m obviously no detective; I can’t find my earbuds half the time. I might be reading too much into this. But it makes sense in my head. There has to be something else. Something so bad they decided to cover it up.
It’s not paranoia if you’re right, is it?
And Kai…
I can’t even imagine how terrible that must have been for him. Losing a sibling. His little sister. That kind of pain never really goes away. I know that firsthand.
Shoving the thoughts aside, I push open the door to my Business class. Immediately, something feels… off. A wave ofsurprise washes over me as I look around at the rearranged seating. It leaves me momentarily disoriented.
