I can’t stay.
Her messages loop through my head, one after another. I can’t do this to her again.
“T-t-turn around,” I manage. Every word drags out of my throat. I still feel the phantom pressure of that collar at my neck, likeThe Silencerstill has it locked around.
She turns, pulling a blanket around herself. I move to the bed and lie down, wrapping my arms around her. She fits against me like she always has, curled into my side.
Her fingers slide over mine. She traces the Roman numerals tattooed into my skin. I am hoping she won’t see that those numbers are her birthday date.
XXIX · X · MM. (October 29th, 2000.)
“Why me?” she whispers. “Why did you choose me?”
I lift one shoulder in a small shrug.
“I know,” she murmurs, pressing her face into my arm. I pull her closer as she curls tighter against me. “You are probably as broken as I am.”
I nod.
“Us broken people always find each other,” she whispers, her eyes drifting shut.
She doesn’t pull away. She leans in instead.
“Let’s pretend I am not me and you are not you,” she says softly. “You can be Chaos. I can be Ruin.”
A quiet breath of laughter leaves me.
Chaos.
“L-l-little,” I murmur, “R-r-ruin,” my words brushing against her hair.
She nods. Her breathing slows as she closes her eyes.
That is who we always were, little sister. You are just starting to see it now.
SEVENTEEN
CHAOS
Istep inside the house, I won from a sad bastard who lost a poker game. Over two years, I threw out his old furniture and brought in new pieces, turning the cliffside place into something more modern. But it still wasn’t home, not without her in it.
I move down the hallway toward the bedroom straight ahead. When I sit on the edge of the bed, my eyes drift to the closet. I even bought her clothes in case she ever gets the chance to move in with me.
I fall back onto the mattress, my head tipping toward the ceiling.
I broke her.
I got what I wanted.
I showed her every twisted corner of myself I kept locked away for years, and she still didn’t even flinch. I tried so hard to shove her out of my life, and she still clings to me. She still wants her stalker to be her mute brother, and somehow, even that wish came true for her.
I spread my arms and close my eyes. All I see is her body pressed against mine. All I see is her face, her full lips parting, asking for mine.
I need her here.
I breathe out. The clock on the wall ticks. When I open my eyes, the hands point to nine in the morning.
I spent the night with her, and I don’t regret it.
