“Tell the truth.”
His hand drifts up to his lip, fingers poised. But then his whole body stiffens as he drops his arm, pressing it against his side. “I did.”
“You don’t know what you did. What you’re still doing. Don’t you get it? You raped a girl, Owen.”
He flinches, but I don’t. I can call it what it is now. What it’ll always be.
“You took her choices from her,” I go on, “her body, her power. You took her ability to trust, her ability to be with a guy, maybe for years. And do you see what’s happening? Do you see how quickly the world turns against her? Do you see how strong she’s been at school, despite all that? You’re not going to ruin her. I won’t let you. She won’t let you.”
Tears course down my cheeks and I know I’m not just talking about Hannah anymore. I’m not just talking about Owen.
“But you’ll let it ruin you and me?” He waves his hand between us, his voice shaking just as much as mine. Matching breath for breath.
“I love you so much, Owen.” And I know it’s true. He’s my twin, my other half, forever. Nothing will ever change that. I’ll always love him. “But right now? I don’t know. I wish I did, but I don’t. You can’t take back what you did—”
“I didn’t. Goddammit, I didn’t do any of that.” He rubs at his forehead with both hands, hiding his face from me. Then his shoulders start shaking. “I didn’t do that. I didn’t.”
I step away from him, my arms aching to hold on to him. Even now. Even after everything. And I can’t do that.
“I can’t be the one to fix us,” I say. “I have to fix myself first.”
He glances at me, a question in his red-rimmed eyes.
I take a deep breath and I tell him a story.
“Once upon a time, a brother and a sister lived with the stars. They were happy and had wild adventures exploring the sky.”
Owen inhales . . . exhales. I feel him relaxing, as if this story somehow symbolizes the two of us getting back to normal.
It doesn’t. This is an entirely different kind of story.
“One day,” I go on, “someone Sister Twin admired, an important man in their starry community, asked her to stay behind after lessons. She did. Everyone respected him and Sister Twin believed in his protection, in his good intentions. She believed he would never hurt her.”
Owen stiffens. “Mara. What—”
“The man smiled and told her not to worry, but that he had to talk to her about a serious problem. Something that could ruin her future, disappoint her parents. To fix it, he asked Sister Twin to . . .” Here my voice knots up, but I swallow a few times, running through the story the way I’ve rehearsed it in my head for days. Next to me, Owen breathes loudly and I know his hands are curled into fists.
Because mine are too.
“He asked Sister Twin to do things she didn’t want to do. Things no grown man should ever ask of a girl.”
“Mara, stop.”
“When she didn’t comply, he forced her to do what he wanted.”
“Mar, holy shit. What is this story?”
“Sister Twin managed to get away from the man. She ran home and cried and never told a soul. She never thought anyone would believe her. The man punished her for running away, convincing her parents that she deserved it. And still, Sister Twin never said a word.”
“What is this? Are you . . . are you talking about . . . what are you talking about? Mara, please.”
He’s crying now.
I know he is, because so am I.
“She never said a single word about it to her family,” I go on, pushing through the tears. “Until right now.”
Owen reaches out and takes my hand, his fingers trembling as they curve around mine. Instead of yanking back, I let him hold on to that little part of me because I need him to hear this. I need him to hear me. To hear all of us.
