The Unburied Ghost

Delia

Cal took a bullet for her.

Of course he did.

I think I hated him for one breath. Maybe two. Not because he saved her, but because he had the right to.

He knew where to stand. He knew what she needed.

He got fifteen years of scraped knees, bad dreams, birthdays, breakfasts, ordinary mornings.

While I got fucking Isabel.

Then Reva looked at me, bleeding and terrified and alive, and the hatred went out of me so fast it left bruises.

She is my sister.

Still.

Always.