Chapter 37

Chapter 37

Nikki

“Why are you here?” A woman’s voice startles me. I lift my head, wiping the dripping hair plastered to my face from my eyes.

It’s her.

“Why are you here?” she repeats more insistently when I don’t respond.

Who is she?

“Why did you come here?” Her stern voice rises.

“Who are you?” Ignoring her question, I finally find my voice.

“I’m Lynne Bennett.”

Eyes wide, my head whips to read the headstone again. I turn back to face her, she’s staring at me blankly. I have so many questions, yet I don’t know what to say.

“I’ll ask you again. Why are you here?”

“Emily was my sister.”

“Emily didn’t have a sister. You and your delusional mother are nothing to Emily.”

“But…”

The woman speaks over me. “My husband never loved your mother. She was nothing more than a manipulative young girl.”

“I don’t understand.”

“You don’t belong here. You can’t take her place. He will never love you.”

“Who? Who won’t love me?”

“You can’t replace her. Not to my husband. Not to Zack. You should have just kept running that day.”

“Zack? Zack doesn’t even know I’m Emily’s sister.”

The woman laughs maniacally. “You’re as crazy as your mother was. Do you really believe he doesn’t know who you are? He’s using you. He misses my daughter. I see him running with you, just like he used to do with my Emily. He was so in love with her, so desperate to keep her with him, he turned to a cheap copy. He doesn’t give a damn about you.”

“I…”

“You should go back to your trailer park. There is nothing here for you.”

I stare at her; she doesn’t so much as blink. My clothes are muddied and dripping wet. Yet, this woman, standing holding her umbrella, doesn’t have a hair out of place or a drop of water on her. I look like the trash she thinks I am.

“Leave!” I jump when she screams. Her blank, perfectly made-up face twists with contempt.

“Leave!” She throws a large bouquet of lilies tied with a white ribbon at me. They hit my face and fall, scattering all around Emily’s grave.

I turn, taking one last look at my sister’s headstone, then run, never looking back.

***

I ring the doorbell for the third time, but no one answers. Zack’s car isn’t here. The driveway is empty. I feel sick. Confused. Angry. Scared. Lost. I need to hear Zack tell me she was lying. He couldn’t possibly have known Emily was my sister.

I bang on the door. Maybe the bell isn’t working. But no one answers. I turn, stopping in my tracks at the sight of Emily’s house. My sister’s house.

Then suddenly I’m ringing the Bennett’s doorbell, yet I don’t even remember crossing the street.

I wait, but no one answers.

I try the door handle. It’s locked.

I need to go inside, although I’m not even sure why.

I try the side door, but it’s locked too.

I keep walking; the gate to the backyard is open.

The back door is locked, so I move to the sliding glass patio door.

It opens.

I step just inside the door. I’m not even sure why I’m here.

The house is quiet. I take a few steps. Photos on the fireplace mantel catch my eye. There’s one of a girl in a cheerleading outfit, her legs in a wide split mid-air. Long, thick, blonde wavy hair— perfectly tanned skin. Emily.My sister. We don’t look anything alike. She doesn’t have our mother’s eyes.

I wander through the house, uncertain of what I’m looking for, what I’m even doing here, until I find it upstairs. Emily’s room.

It looks like it hasn’t been touched since…

There are clothes strewn haphazardly on the bed. I pick up one of the dresses and hold it against me. We’re the same size.

Scanning the room, I find the wall behind me littered with photos. There are hundreds of them. All tilted in different directions, random words cut out from magazines and added to the collage. Cheer. Love. LOL. Prada. Family. PLL. My eyes seize on the biggest word. Thick pink block letters, in all caps. ZACK.

I study the pictures.

Emily and her friends.

Emily and her parents.

Emily and Zack.

Dozens and dozens of Emily and Zack.

There must be a hundred of them.

At school.

At dances.

Zack in his football uniform.

Emily in her cheerleading outfit.

I feel sick.

One particular photo catches my eye. It’s of Zack and Emily as kids, they couldn’t be more than eight or nine. Dirty faces, both smiling wildly, Zack is peddling a bright yellow bike, Emily is on the handlebars.

My head is spinning.

I study their faces. They look so happy.

The wall of pictures begins to blur, photos morph into each other. The room begins to spin.

I need air.

An oversized mirror leans against a wall. I see my reflection. Silent tears roll down my cheeks, but I don’t feel them.

I need to leave. My feet start to move, but a photo tucked into the corner of the frame catches my eye and I freeze. Zack and Emily, arms wrapped around each other, smile broadly for the camera. But that’s not what has stopped my heart from beating. It’s the lighthouse they are standing in front of.

No.

Ripping the photo from the frame, I look at their faces one more time.

They’re happy.

In love.

The woman’s words haunt my ears.

“He was so in love with her, so desperate to keep her with him, he turned to a cheap copy. He doesn’t give a damn about you.”

I shred the picture to pieces.

It’s not enough.

I look around for something. Anything. I grab a shoe and throw it at the mirror, but it doesn’t break. So I find something else— a perfume bottle. And this time I wind up before I heave the heavy bottle from my trembling hand. A loud shatter rings through the still room. A hundred tiny pieces of glass fall to the ground. I turn, water still dripping from everywhere on my body, and slowly walk out of the house.