Page 123 of The Next Lie

“I was there.”

“I hid in a closet.”

“I know.”

“I thought you were dead, Dee. I watched them carry away a child-sized body bag.”

“I know.”

“Then don’t stand there and say one bad night to me like I misplaced a shoe.”

Her lips press together, and a muscle moves in her cheek.

I point toward the house. “You think I had some sweet little life because Cal made sure there was food in the fridge and the locks worked. Fine. I had school and a job and an apartment and a man who loved me enough to lie every single day. Is that the life you mean?”

Her voice drops. “You were safe.”

“I was alone.”

“You were alive.”

“So were you.”

She looks away.

I keep going because apparently I am my own worst enemy. “And I don’t know what happened to you. I don’t know what they made you do. I don’t know why you have that tattoo or that scar or why you look at me like I’m the one who ruined everything by showing up breathing.”

“You did ruin things.”

The sentence slices clean through my tirade, and I stop. Delia’s face pales a little, like even she hears how it sounds.

I nod slowly. “Nice.”

“I didn’t mean⁠—”

“Sure, you did.”

“No.” She steps closer. “I only meant you don’t understand what happens when a buried thing gets up and walks back into the room.”

I laugh, and the sound is bitter and chokes. “I think I might understand more than you think.”

“You understand nothing.”

“I understand that Mom and Dad would be fucking sick if they could see you now.”

Her face goes dead still, and the air between us changes. The thought crosses my mind that maybe I’ve said enough. Maybe I should stop.

I can’t, though. Something pushes more words out of me, the awareness, maybe, that I’d drown on them if I tried to hold them in.

“They would be disappointed in you,” I say, and my voice shakes because I mean to hurt her now. “Especially Mom.”

Delia huffs out a sound that is almost a laugh and almost pain.

It is ugly. It scares me.

“Do me a favor and don’t talk to me about our mother.”

“Why? Because you were born thirteen minutes before me and you remember her better? Because the Syndicate gave you a more complete trauma education?”