Total pages in book: 216
Estimated words: 206530 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1033(@200wpm)___ 826(@250wpm)___ 688(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 206530 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1033(@200wpm)___ 826(@250wpm)___ 688(@300wpm)
I believed Chloe and Miranda. I did. But still, seeing the true face of my brother for the first time…
“She’d always cry when I snuck in her room at night to fuck her. You would’ve loved it.”
My jaw tightens so hard I swear my teeth are going to crack. I know what he’s doing. Trying to rile me so I won’t inject him, or maybe so I’ll hit him instead and leave some DNA behind so this won’t just look like the tidy overdose I intend.
But I have something that my brother never understood.
Discipline.
So I shove the needle in his arm and root around until I hit the vein. Then I depress the plunger.
“You’re just like me,” he shouts. “You like it when they scream. Nothing makes you harder than when they fight you and you get to hurt them anyway. You love being a god just as much as I do, brother. We’re both our father’s son! We’re both—”
He cuts off mid-sentence and his mouth shuts and then gapes open, shuts and opens as his eyes go distant.
I move off him and sit beside the brother I loved my whole life and watch as the life drains from his eyes.
Epilogue
MIRANDA
Things have been quiet since Dylan came back from Thailand. Quiet but good. We spend every night together in each other’s arms.
He hasn’t told me exactly what happened but I read online about how his brother supposedly OD’d during his trip to Thailand.
No one knows Dylan was there. He traveled by private jet and apparently bribed whatever local officials needed bribing. He told me that much so I wouldn’t worry.
There was a funeral for his brother that he arranged and went to and looked appropriately grieved at. I couldn’t quite bring myself to go but I saw pictures. When I asked him later he said he was grieving. Grieving for the brother he’d lost, even if that person had never been real.
But he didn’t grieve for long, because while he’d lost a fictional brother, he’d gained back a very real sister.
Chloe had extended her visit and only gone back home to Austin a couple of days ago. Dylan became a different person with her around. He lit up, teasing her and joking with her. I could see what it must have been like with them growing up together. It was clear Chloe idolized him. I was so happy for him, having that.
At night though, he still had nightmares.
I woke him as gently as possible, and now, finally, he didn’t turn me away. He let me hold him. The last barriers between us were finally crumbling.
We made love every night, sometimes in the mornings, too. I think Dylan will always need that with me—it’s like it’s the only way I can communicate with him that I really love him and trust him. With my body.
We haven’t played since that awful night in the alley.
The love-making is wonderful and I’ll be more than fulfilled if it’s all we ever have. But what I don’t like is the thought that Dylan is closing off a part of himself in order to be with me.
I hate the thought that he still believes any part of himself is monstrous. I still see it in his eyes sometimes, though. The self-loathing. Not as often anymore but it’s still there.
And it’s time once and for all for him to accept every part of himself as good and whole and wonderful.
We were headed out on a date tonight and I was going to tell him all of this, but then I got a fucking flat tire.
So now I’m stranded out on an abandoned backroad at nine-thirty with no cell-service. Frickin’ awesome.
I’ve been looking for cars to flag down but I swear no one drives on this piddly little road my GPS directed me down on.
I keep my eye on my rearview mirror.
And finally, finally, I see headlights coming my way. I wait until the car parks behind mine and a man steps out. His lights are still on so he’s a tall, dark silhouette as he approaches.
My heartbeat starts to ramp up.
Even though I know he’s coming, I still jump when he raps on my window. I roll it down.
“Do you need help, miss?”
“I- I’ve got a flat and don’t have a spare in the trunk.”
“I’m happy to help. Just step on out. I’ve got the gear in my van back here.”
I bite my bottom lip nervously. “Are you sure?” I look up and down the road.
“Done it a hundred times. I just need a little help getting the jack in place. We’ll get you back on the road in no time.”
I glance up and down the road again. “Okay. Thanks. My cell phone doesn’t have any bars or I would have called triple A or my boyfriend.”
I open the door and step out. My heels and glittery halter dress aren’t exactly tire-changing attire but I hope I can be of some help.