Page 83 of Queen of Nothing

But it is my father—and the sight of him sends waves of emotion rolling through me.

I swipe at the thick, quiet tears wetting my cheeks. And, as I do, another silhouette comes into the frame.

I blink the watery film of my eyes away—

And I see Oliver.

He wanders into the apartment, hands in his pockets… as though he’s relaxed, as though his heart isn’t thrashing against his ribs like mine is.

He looks utterly calm.

I strain against the breaths jutting in my chest, on the verge of sobs, the guilt rising up in me with too much violence.

And my twin is the opposite.

Too relaxed, too casual, his gaze sweeps the room as he wanders further in. But he brushes right over Serena like she’s not even there.

No acknowledgement, no greeting.

As though she doesn’t exist, never has and never will, he strolls towards the partition in the bedroom and considers the room for a moment before turning around to face the others.

Oliver is at the edge of the frame. I can only make out a sliver of him, his shoulder leaning against the partition.

And I understand what they are doing.

Father by a window that looks down on the lane between the street and the carpark.

Oliver by the bedroom—his back to the window that leads down to the fire escape.

Mr Younge just a few backsteps away from the door.

They are covering every exit.

Serena can’t flee.

She’s trapped in there.

She’s caught.

I know what I’m supposed to do.

This is a scenario we’ve gone over a hundred times, if not more.

If one is caught, the other grabs Sal—and gets the hell out of town.

Sal is the priority.

Not us.

But I don’t move from the driver’s seat.

I don’t hang up the call or stumble out of the car and barge into Ms Brown’s house.

I stay stuck to the seat.

Serena moves for the first time. Her neck cranes and she looks over her shoulder.

She looks right at Oliver.