Don’t move.”
Lauren’s voice quivers. So does the hand holding my gun. But her finger slips into the trigger guard as if she’s done it before. I stand frozen before her, but not for the reason she thinks. Instead, my brother’s voice fills my head, not hers.
You’re an idiot, Liam.
Don’t be stupid, Liam.
This is why I lose every time. This is why he wins. Drew never makes mistakes. Like a machine, he does everything right.
“Give me the keys,” Lauren says, her voice changing with each word.
Since seeing the bones, Lauren has looked lost. But right in front of me, I see her transform. Her back straightens. Her hands stop shaking. A smirk lifts one side of her mouth. And I realize that, at least to her, she is back in control. She’s calling the shots again, and she seems to feed on that power.
“No,” I answer flatly.
She takes a step back, but the look on her face doesn’t change. Her voice sounds shrill and too loud, but the smirk remains.
“I’ll do it, Liam. You don’t know me. You don’t know what I’m capable of.”
“Maybe I do,” I say.
She blinks. It’s my turn to smile.
“Maybe I know exactly what you’re capable of. Words. That’s it, Lauren. That’s all you have. And you use them to get what you want. Words are power. But only for so long. Then they fade away, and you’re left with the truth.”
“The truth?” She scoffs. “Like how you want to screw your own sister-in-law. Or how you live in a pathetic trailer down by the river. The truth, Liam, is that you’re a loser. You’ve always been a loser. Nothing more than that. You’re not some kind of tragic hero. Some misunderstood artist. You’re just trash. And for some reason, your brother refuses to throw you out.”
I absorb her words. They shake inside me, down to the core. I need to know if they are true. If my memories are real. I will, soon enough. That’s what this is all about, really.
I take a step toward her. She takes a half step back. My head is spinning. But I don’t feel angry, which surprises me. Instead, I’m just so tired.
“Give me the keys,” she repeats. “And my phone.”
I stare into her eyes. “Why do you let him hurt you?”
She shudders. It is slight, barely noticeable. I recognize it immediately, though. In a way, it is like looking into a mirror.
“It doesn’t get better, Lauren. It never will. I know you want it to. I know you see this picture of him. He’s strong and bold. Some force just draws you closer. Makes you want to stand near him. Be a part of whatever it is he’s doing. That’s why he makes the perfect politician. That charisma just radiates out from him like ripples in the water. But then you get too close. You get to the center. The real Drew rises to the surface, and you see the darkness for the first time. You explain it away. You convince yourself. But when the truth comes out, you’re left lying there, feeling dirty and raw and empty. Like the world is staring at your shame. What is it that keeps you there? Lets you hang around until the next time?”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” she says, after another shuffle back down the rise, back toward the Mazda. “Just give me the keys . . . and my phone. Or I swear, I’ll—”
“Does he tell you about our father? Does he mention him?”
“Shut up! Goddamn it. Just shut up. Who do you think you are? Trying to enlighten me about the truth after all the shit you’ve done? Wake up. It’s over. I’m going to call the cops—”
“No, you’re not.”
“What?”
“You’re not calling the cops. You’re going to run back to him. Fall down at his feet and cry. Because he’s calling the shots. You aren’t. He’s in control.” I pull the keys out of my pocket. “Go ahead. Go run back to him. You can take the car. Just go. Tell him—”
“Give me my phone,” she snaps.
My eyes narrow. She’s standing in front of me, pointing a gun in my face. She’s been abducted. She’s seen the remains. But she’s going to stand here and tell me to give her the phone. She could leave. I’d let her. But the arrogance. The righteousness. It sparks the fire. I take another step toward her. Toward the gun.
“You think you’re so smart. So superior. You grew up in your perfect little house. Your parents told you how great you were every day. How you could do anything you wanted to do. That the world was yours. Your dad bought you that Jetta. Probably those perfect white teeth, too. It was all so easy for you, wasn’t it?”
I move closer. Her eyes widen. She starts to back up, but I notice her hands are shaking again.
“Stay back,” she says.
“What are you going to do, shoot me?”
I move quickly, swallowing the space between us in one smooth thrust. I feel the barrel of the gun strike my cheek. And I keep moving. Keep pushing into it. The force of it moves her finger inside the guard. It flirts with the trigger.
“Stop!” she screams.
“Do it!” I scream back.
She stumbles but keeps her balance. I keep going. The cold metal against my skin feels real. But nothing else does.
“Shoot,” I say. “Just do it. Do it!”
“I will. I’ll—”
“Do it!”
I could reach out and take the gun. I know I could. It would be easy. In a way, I think she wants me to. Action isn’t Lauren’s game. It’s mine. And Drew’s.
But maybe I just want her to do it. To end this all. I can feel my mother’s headstone behind me, like eyes on my back. It pulls, tugs me back off the ledge. But my momentum can’t be stopped. Nothing can stop it, I think.
“Just do it,” I whisper, reaching out. I grab Lauren by the front of her jacket. “Please.”
“Stop! Let go!”
Her finger moves on its own this time. It touches the trigger. It stiffens. She’s ready. I can feel it. My eyes close. And I see her. Her face appears before me. I try to cry out. To apologize for my weakness. For not being able to protect her. But it’s over now. Finally.
“Just do it,” I say. And a smile forms, despite everything.