3. Chapter 2
Zoe
Living alone has its charms. For real. Maybe I can’t recall them all right now, but they’re there. Without a doubt.
All right. Let’s think…
Peace is a plus. No one uses up all the hot water. At five in the morning, the coffee machine goes unused. There’s no bloodstain from a night out. No one…
Fuck!
Who am I kidding? I hate living alone right now!
The pros and cons create a mess in my head.
I’m glad Ash found her soulmate in this fucked-up world. Honestly. Then again, it’s not easy for me to adjust to a new life without her. For as long as I can remember, it has just been the two of us. Together, always.
Ash is more than just a sister to me. She has been a mother. Sometimes a father. And always a friend.
I put on a radiant face every time we see each other. I don’t want to worry her, so I pretend to be content and happy with my life. For her sake.
Looking around the immaculate living room and kitchenette, I put my hands on hips. It’s so clean, you could even eat off the floor. Everything’s in its place.
The books are in alphabetical order, the record collection too; carpets freshly washed, windows spotless. In my current obsession, I’ve gone so far as to move all the cabinets. That says a lot. We haven’t done that since we moved in.
Maybe I should get a dog? A cat?
I’m worried I’ll run out of things to clean soon—what will I do then? At least a pet would give me a date for Friday and Saturday nights.
Knocking suddenly echoes.
“Ash?” My wide-eyed look says more than my words when I crack the door. “What are you doing here?”
“What a warm welcome, sis. Can I come in?”
“Stupid question. Why don’t you just come in, instead of knocking like a total stranger?”
We head straight to the kitchen.
“I’d rather not walk in on you with some guy on the couch now that you live here alone. By the way, why do you open the door without checking through the peephole to see who’s there?”
My laugh is short and forced.
My hands go to the coffee machine and only then do I answer. “First, have you ever seen a guy here? I’m like a monk. It’s a real turn-off. Don’t expect that to occur anytime soon. As for your second question, who on earth would find me here?”
“This isn’t safe,” she says with disapproval, a scolding look in her eyes, and sits down by the kitchen island. The chair she always sits in. “You know we have enemies—even more now, with Ryker on board—so you have to look out for your own safety.”
For a moment I feel like a child again. Something inside me snaps. My muscles tense on their own. “Indeed, Ash, you have enemies. You—not me. I have nothing to do with this. This is your life, not mine.”
If I were a better person, I would already have remorse. My sister means well, and I react with aggression. It's beyond my control.
“Don’t be silly,” she says, raising an eyebrow. “We’re family, so this is our life. You know better than anyone what I’ve been doing for most of my life. It’s a threat to you too.”
I swallow the words pushing their way onto my tongue. Swallow them because I appear an ungrateful bitch when, in fact, I just miss her.
Why can't I be different? Why can't I act like the sister I used to be?
I set the hot coffee in front of Ash and pull the tequila out of the fridge for myself. Sitting across from her, I pour a shot, down it, and then pour another.
I give her a defiant look, and in response, she gives me another scolding one. Oh, God. I certainly hate that look on her face.
But beneath it all, there’s still concern in her eyes. That kills me even more.
“Isn’t it too early for tequila? Are we celebrating something, Zoe?”
I shake my head. The tequila was supposed to calm my irritation. It’s screwing this up. “It’s as good a time as any. Why are you here, Ash? Don’t you have a husband at home waiting for you? I bet he’ll call in the next five minutes, asking where you are.”
My dig fuels the storm clouds above us when Ash’s phone, lying between us, suddenly starts vibrating. A photo of Ryker appears on the screen with the caption my and a heart emoji.
We both roll our eyes at the same second. Still, Ash doesn’t answer, and we both know he’ll call again soon.
So I sigh and knock back the next shot.
“What’s going on, Zoe? Talk to me,” she pleads. “We haven’t really talked at all lately. If we do, it’s just small talk. It feels like you’re shutting me out.”
To keep from saying what I’m really thinking, I bite my lip. It’s not me who’s distancing myself from her. Maybe it’s not even her who’s doing it. It’s just that for some time now, something has changed between us. Some invisible wall has gone up, and I don’t have the least idea how to get over it.
Or maybe it’s time to stay on this side of the wall and let her build a new life on the other?
My head is a mess.
“Zoe! What you’re doing is so childish!” It escapes her lips, and my breath hitches in my chest.
“Oh? Enlighten me, my oh-so-grown-up sister: what do you think I’m doing wrong?”
“You’re isolating yourself from us! You’ve been doing it ever since that thing with my father.
I apologized to you and thought we’d sorted everything out, but I guess I was wrong.
You still treat me coldly. Like a stranger.
It’s like you’ve shut yourself off. You’re not working. You don’t even leave the house!”
Every word she says is like a dagger straight to the heart, but I don’t let on at all. Why? I don’t know either. Feeling helplessness and uselessness overwhelms me.
My mouth opens before I can think it through.
“I don’t go out because I have everything I need right here.
I don’t need anyone or anything else! Work?
Is money the problem? The money you’re paying for an apartment you don’t even live in anymore?
Don’t worry, I’ll pay you back every damn buck. Now get the hell out of here!”
Jesus Christ! Immediately I hate myself for every single word my lying mouth utters. For how much I’m hurting her right now, and I can’t stop. Tears well up in her eyes, and yet I’m still unable to stop. My self-hatred spills over onto her, and I feel even worse.
Ash gets up and stares at the coffee she hasn’t even touched. Then she grabs her phone and car keys. “You’re being unfair right now. I love you, Zoe. I’m begging you to bring my little sister back. I’ll wait for the day when you need me just as much as I need you.”
Her composure is crushing, and every step she takes is painful. Still, I don’t say what I’m truly thinking. I don’t apologize or call after her. Ash leaves, closing the door behind her with a soft click. And I feel like total shit.
My hands are trembling. Soon my vision blurs too, and the first hot tear rolls down my cheek.
I want to do so many things, but I do nothing.
My anxiety won’t let up, and I have to leave the kitchen in perfect condition. Just as it was before Ash showed up here. Only then do I go to my bedroom, lie down on the bed, and hide under a thick blanket.
Guilt is eating me up from the inside; it won’t let up. Even an hour later, when I hear another knock, I don’t move. It doesn’t matter who’s on the other side. I don’t want to see anyone.
The words spoken here today keep replaying in my mind, endlessly.
Behind all of this, behind my behavior, there’s something else I’ve never mentioned to anyone.
I go back to the beginning, to the foster home. They sent us there after our mother died.
Like a movie, images of people who hurt me play through my memory. Some abused me emotionally. At every opportunity, they lowered my self-esteem. They sowed the seeds of hatred they themselves lived by. The abuse continued even when I cried.
Others preferred to inflict physical pain. I still suffer from headaches to this day after Jeremiah pushed me down the stairs. We were alone in the house. And as we grew older, the ways they hurt me became more sophisticated.
For years, I didn’t utter a single word about what was going on in that house.
Ash did all she could to help us stay afloat. She always did whatever was needed—and even more.
She had a plate full of her own worries, and I didn’t want to add mine.
That’s why I stayed quiet.
And that’s why now, at twenty-three, I’m saying enough is enough.
What happened there over the years hasn’t gone away at all.
One moment has etched itself not only into my memory but also into my soul and heart forever.
I can still picture it: the light fading as I knelt down in the wild, untended growth of the garden. Kneeling there with my hands resting on the ground, clenched into fists. And I couldn’t stop watching as more drops of blood fell onto those tiny fists.
Drip. Drip. Drip.
The blood landed on the ground, and the red spots seeped into the dirty soil.
That’s when I swore.
I swore that for every single drop of my blood spilled, I would spill a sea of blood from my tormentors.