Icouldn’t have asked my brother anything more horrifying. It’s the question I’m not supposed to ask, the question no one is supposed to ask. When Jason confessed, he explained that he and Cal got into a stupid, drunken fight and he made the worst mistake of his life. Everyone accepted the story, but I know there has to be more. There has to be a reason.
My eyes are swimming with tears, and I think it’s the first time I’ve let my brother see me cry since this all began.
“Don’t, Brooke.” Jason’s jaw is clenched tight, but I can see a faint tremor in his chin.
“I have to know,” I say, as the first tear slips down my cheek. “I know something happened to make you—do what you did.”
He holds my gaze, hard. “There’s nothing else to tell.”
Another tear falls. Not because I believe him, but because he’d never have had to try so hard to convince me if it were the truth. “I know you wouldn’t have hurt him because of a stupid fight,” I say again, not blinking under his stare. “I know you. I know you’re capable of getting mad and losing your temper. But you get sick at the sight of blood just like me.” I’m not even trying to wipe my cheeks dry. “So tellmewhat happened. Tell me why this time was different. Give me something, Jase.”
Jason’s chin is quivering nonstop at this point. He’s trying so hard to hide it, but he can’t from me. “We fought. I killed him.”
I’m shaking my head.
“Yes, damn it!” Jason hisses at me through clenched teeth, making me jump with his vehemence. He presses the advantage. “I had a knife and when he turned around I stabbed him.” He looks sick just saying it. He’s still facing me, but I know he’s not here anymore. He’s back in the woods near the high school. I can see it too, the way it would have looked the summer night Cal died, empty and quiet. Jason keeps talking, slipping into the rehearsed words I remember from his confession.
“He died.” His blank eyes have shifted to my right. In the visitation room, there is nothing there, but Jason’s face contorts like his very heart is being ripped from his body. I don’t say anything; I try not to even breathe as he goes on, telling me things he never has before. “He was just lying there on the ground and his eyes were open, you know? But he didn’t look dead, he looked like...Cal.” The voice breaking this time is my brother’s. “But he wasn’t. He was gone. He was dead and I ran after h—” Jason sits up straighter, but not before flinching. “I ran.”
My hands clench the edge of the table so hard I expect pieces to snap off. “You ran after someone. That’s what you were going to say.” I watch awareness trickle back into Jason’s eyes. His chin stops quivering but his jaw stays locked. It’s almost scary, watching the broken version of my brother transform into the hardened prisoner he’s showing me now. “Who did you run after?”
“No one.” But that’s not what he started to say, and I’m sitting up straighter too. The look in Jason’s eyes puts his previously frightened expression to shame. My heart is beating faster and faster.
“Jason, was someone else there?”
He’s trying to remain impassive, but it’s a losing battle. “No.”
“I don’t believe you.” I whisper it like it’s a prayer. “You never mentioned anyone else. Not to the cops or the judge. You never talked about a third person that night.”
“There wasn’t anyone else.”
But I’m only half listening. Fear and hope start entwining together inside me, and he can’t kill it with the retractions that start tumbling from his mouth. It’s too late. “You have to tell me.”
“I already did.”
“You have to tell me all of it.”
“I told you. You won’t listen.”
“I’m listening now.” My eyes and ears are wide-open. “Why are you lying?”
“I’m not.”
He has no reason to lie. If someone else was there then maybe they could explain and I wouldn’t have to wake up screaming into my pillow anymore. “Is that why you pleaded guilty?” There. He winces again. I lean across the table. “Are you protecting someone? Or are you scared of someone?”
The blood drains from Jason’s face and for a second I think he might pass out, that’s how pale he goes.
“You weren’t drinking that night.”
He says nothing.
“And you can’t handle the sight of blood.”
He still says nothing.
“Cal was your best friend. I still don’t understand how you could have hurt him. Why won’t you tell me?”
“It won’t change anything.” He’s drawing in on himself, shrinking before my eyes. Shutting down. I keep repeating his name, louder and more forcefully, but he doesn’t hear me. All around us people are starting to turn in our direction. Guards are leaving their posts by the door and heading toward us. And Jason keeps repeating the same three words.
