“Does he know I’mdead?” I growl, my eyes turning to slits. Roux’s face falls, and her mouth clicks shut. “He fucking should! He’s the one who murdered me and dragged the shell of my body out back to feed me to the hogs like leftovers!”
I can tell by the way her body goes limp and her eyes water that I’ve confirmed something. My words give meaning to a lingering suspicion she has buried inside her mind.
“Of course he fucking knows,” I add before she has a chance to regain her thoughts.
“I just…I just meant, does he know you’re still…around?” Her voice wavers, carrying off as her words fail her. Roux’s eyes search mine for a moment before falling to the floor.
“A ghost?” My tone softens, anger draining from me. Yelling at Roux won’t calm the boiling rage inside me, won’t bring me back or get me closer to Jace. In fact, it only succeeds in making me feel more like shit. “He just assumes I’m another one of his drunken hallucinations, his guilt coming back to torment him. I doubt he realizes it’s actually me.”
“I’m so sorry, Cyrus,” Roux whimpers, reaching toward me to swirl her fingers against my ghostly form. “I’m so sorry.”
“There’s nothin’ to be sorry about,” I sigh, my back to the wall. I run my fingers through my hair, twirling the ends in front of my eyes. “Shit happens, you know, especially in our family.”
“Tell me about it. I guess none of us exactly won the paternal lottery.” She lets out an exasperated exhale and leans against the wall next to me.
“Oh yeah, I heard about what happened to yours,” I say cautiously, chancing a sideways look at her. “Second hand, of course. I put it together after listenin’ in on a few conversations my pop had.”
“Don’t be,” she huffs, rolling her eyes. “He was an asshole, and from what I know about Mattie, she wouldn’t have done it if he didn’t have it comin’. Ya know?” I just hate how she endedup goin’ out. She deserved much better than the hand she was dealt.”
“We all did,” I say, shrugging before chuckling a little. “You’re the last one standing.” It’s meant to be a joke, but there’s a lot of truth in it. Out of all three of us cousins, Roux’s the only one still alive—and for that, I’m thankful. One of us deserves to live an actual life.
“And Jace,” she adds, looking towards the bedroom. Suddenly, like a light turning on after years of darkness, I realize she’s right. I’ve never thought about it before, since her family isn’t connected by blood or marriage, but her family was part of the Revelators all the same.
“And Jace,” I repeat back to her, nodding as I look down, not quite ready to meet Roux’s eyes again. “You think there’s some kind of curse?”
“Maybe,” Roux ponders, pursing her lips. “I guess I never really thought about it like that. Figured it’s just a lot of ‘what goes around, comes around’, only we’re payin’ the price for our parents’ sins.” She yawns loudly, rubbing her eyes and looking much younger than she is for just a moment.
“I found somethin’ strange in Jace’s room,” I admit, thinking of the picture with my face crossed out. “Our photos were taped on a piece of paper: mine, yours, Mattie’s...and Jace’s. Only mine and Mattie’s had big red exes over them. The date and our ages at the time of our deaths were there too.”
Roux tilts her head, breathing heavily through her nose. “What? Why would Jace have that?”
“She took a box outta the shed, had everything shoved under her bed. I don’t think she’s seen it yet,” I explain, leaving out the fact I know Jace hasn’t because I purposely hid it from her.
“What do you think it means?” she asks, yawning again.
“I don’t know, but you should get some sleep. I’ll try not to keep you awake all night, rattling chains and slamming doors.”I laugh, moving away from the bedroom door so she can get inside.
“Where will you go?” she asks, eyes full of concern, still glistening with a hint of tears.
“I’ll be around,” I promise, pressing one finger to the tip of her nose. She crinkles it like she’s about to sneeze and then swats my hand away playfully. I tilt my head toward the bedroom. “Don’t tell her.Please, Roux. Promise me.”
“Fine,” she groans, heading into the room. She looks back as she inches the door closed. “Butyoushould. You left a lot of questions unanswered for her, Cyrus, and she deserves to know. If you care about her, you won’t be just another thing haunting her dreams.”
“Wait,” I beg, trying to push against the closing door. “What is that supposed to mean?”
“Goodnight, Cyrus,” she whispers as the door clicks shut.
20
JACE
In the morning, Roux and I exchange tearful goodbyes, promising we’ll see each other again before the end of winter break. Her visit was brief, but it was exactly what I needed to keep my head above water. It was nice to just feel anything besides crushing heartache—for once. I didn’t mention the strange dream I had about Cyrus the night of our sleepover. Every time I started to, it seemed too weird, getting off in my sleep to a dream about her cousin while she was right beside me.
Before she left, Roux made me pinky swear I would actually text her and let her know if I needed to escape, offering to let me stay with her for a few days. I should take her up on it, get out of my head again. All the questions lingering inside me have been festering since she left, sinking into me like slow poison. When I asked her about confronting Pop, she simply squeezed my hand and said, “Wait a bit, Jace. Think on it a little, and remember not to ask questions you don’t want answers to.” The same advice Cyrus gave me each time I brought up his past.
Hours later, the afterglow of Roux’s visit has worn off, depression bursting through the dam she temporarily constructed around my heart. Once again, thoughts of Cyrus’ possible demise and the secrets from the shed consume myevery waking moment. Relentless what-ifs plague me. Each one builds on top of the other until the stack is ready to fall, crushing me beneath it.
My bare feet wear lines in the carpet, pacing in front of my bedroom door. I’ve been hiding in my room all day, formulating what I want to say. No matter how many times I rehearse the impending conversation with my folks, the words stick in my throat like tree sap. If I don’t do this now, I never will.
