“Love?” I wave my hand at a photo array of my sister’s disintegration. “You think this is love?”
I close my eyes, finding my old anger, my old armour, shutting every other disturbing emotion away. The rage greets me like an old friend and what good times we had, tearing apart the dealers in this city as I searched in vain for the person who started it all, who got my precious sister hooked on their corrosive drug.
The man who’s been under my nose all this time.
“Get out of my house,” I say, chest straining to form the words. “I never want to see you again.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
MADDOX
I can’t face goingto school on Monday. Instead, I skulk in my room until I can’t stand to remain there a second longer. Until the memories of Evie, the smell of her, the image of her smiling face, erode any hope of finding equanimity.
The bed is a no-go area, the imprint of her body still indenting the covers. The floor and the walls aren’t much better. After a night spent tossing and turning, I shift what I need into a guest bedroom. It’s sterile, and the view is crap but at least I manage a few hours’ sleep.
Thoughts of Addie fill my head. The way she was in the last few days and weeks of her life. The wretched screaming. The howls of abuse. The desperation that pulsed from her as I pushed her away.
The past eighteen months has been spent blaming myself. For not helping her in the right way, not being strong enough to get her clean. For not finding the right way to be supportive without enabling her.
For being wrong at every turn.
Even through the months when I doled out punishment to the dealers with indiscriminate abandon, the wound inside me festered. Knowing it was more my fault than theirs. The crusade nothing but a way to misdirect the blame; always knowing it wasn’t the answer. Always knowing I was the one who should be eradicated.
It was me who failed.
And now I find out the truth. That there was never any hope for Addie because the person who she thought of as a friend was the worst person in the world for her.
When I close my eyes, I see Ant’s face. See his earnest expression as he lies to me, point blankliesto me about how he wished he could have done more to help my sister. About how wonderful she was, how much he cared for her.
Lies, lies, and more lies.
Bad enough that he didn’t help her. Worse to find out he was the person who initiated her drug abuse.
The anger has never burned as fiercely inside me. I toss and turn, giving up after so many hours spent awake that I decide it’s just as easy to glare at the ceiling as to stare at the inside of my eyelids.
I have English first period and a free study period after, so stay home until after morning break, drinking coffee and glaring at the river. Of all the vapid thoughts in my head, one wish rises above the others. The wish to turn back time and stop myself going on the vigilante spree that sent my life careening off course.
“What d’you want me to do with the money?” my father asks when he drags himself upstairs, settling down with his morning papers. “I can have Vale drop it in to her.”
“Fuck, no. She gave it back. Keep it.”
He stares at me for a long moment, but I don’t return his eye contact. We said all we needed to when he explained exactly howmuch of a fool I’ve been, chasing a girl who knew—whoknew—her brother caused Addie’s death.
Another lie on top of all the other lies she told me. The embarrassment is the worst part. That my father understood all along she was no good, he warned me to stay away, but I thought I knew better.
All I ended up doing was letting the enemy camp too close to my heart.
At ten-thirty in the morning, my phone buzzes and I check the screen. I’ve blocked Evie and I know it won’t be her, but there’s still a faint tang of hope when I see a random number on the screen. “Yeah?”
“Hey, big spender. It’s Robyn from Chezzers, remember me?”
My mind is so scrambled it takes me a moment to place her. Then it clicks. The woman I paid to ensure Evie stopped working at the club. “Sure. What d’you want?”
“Well, you only paid up to this week. I was wondering if you still want me to exclude your girl or should I bang her back on the roster?”
An unfortunate choice of words.Bang.Sounds about right.
I must pause too long, because Robyn explains, “Only she called, asking for hours.”
