Chapter 2

On the way up the stairs, I paused to look at the many photos that lined the wall, almost all of them of Stevie, from her first day of school to her graduation, and photos of her on her birthday—well, our birthday.

The one that got my attention had Stevie, Dad, and me in it. We must have been about 4 years old, and one of us was perched on each of his knees and smiling. I wished I could have gone with my Dad and Stevie when they left, but my mom wouldn’t let both of us go. Truth be told, she only wanted to keep one of us so Dad had to pay her child support.

Stevie noticed I had stopped following her up the stairs, and she came back down and wrapped an arm around my shoulders. She knew it was hard for me to see the photos. She had a happy childhood and a loving parent. I had neither.

“He never stopped loving you, and he talked about you all the time.”

“Then why did he never fight for me? He never came back once after you left, Stevie, He left me with her! I would have given my firstborn child to have been with you and Dad. I never had a choice.”

I knew she wouldn’t have let me go with them, no matter what Dad said, but it still hurt to have been virtually abandoned. My sister looked at me with such pity in her eyes, but I didn’t want her pity or anyone else’s. I had no intention of letting my mother’s abuse define me. I am not a victim; I am a survivor.

“I don’t know, Ryan. For years I asked him if you could come for the holidays or if I could go visit you and Mom. He always said no to me visiting you. He rang Mom a few times to ask if you could come here. He told her it wasn’t healthy to keep us apart. She would always tell him he could see you again when he got over himself and came back to her.”

After that, there wasn’t much to say, so I just sighed and started my trek up the stairs. Once at the top, she opened the second door on the right. The room was beautiful, with painted pink walls and a queen-sized bed in the middle of the room. There was a unicorn plushie perched on the bed, even. I used to love unicorns. There was a single dresser on the far wall with little snow globes on top. I made my way over to inspect them further, only to be distracted by a note on the side table by the bed that was addressed to me. I raised a brow at Stevie in question.

“The letter is from Dad. He wrote it to you the week he passed. It was like he almost knew what was coming. Dad always said one day you would come back here. He never gave up hope, Ry. He wanted his girls back together. This was supposed to be your room.”

I looked to my sister, my mouth hanging open. Her words set an ache in my heart. I had dreamed of a room like this when I was little, instead of the dirty mattress on the floor with no sheets. Mom never spent money on things that weren’t an absolute necessity. She always told me I should be grateful it wasn’t the floor.

“If he wanted me to come back here so bad, why didn't he open the front door and let me see you when I came here, Stevie? I don’t understand any of this.” I was trying so hard to hold back the tears.

My sister looked at me with utter heartbreak in her eyes, and I forced myself to swallow down the pain. I couldn’t take that look from her.

“Don’t worry, Stevie. I just want to grab a shower and relax. It’s supposed to be a happy time. We’re finally together again, and no one is here to tear us apart this time. We'll deal with all this other crap later.”

She smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. She simply took my hand in hers and squeezed it tight once before leaving me in my pink room with my unicorn and my grief.

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After having a long, hot shower, some of the stress from my drive and my childhood memories start to ease. I was thankful for that; I didn’t want to spoil this time with my sister and cousins by living in the past.

While brushing out my hair and staring at myself in the mirror, I thought about how different mine and Stevie’s personalities are. She has such a carefree spirit, and I always worry and over-think things. She has so much confidence and could hold her own in a room full of beautiful people, whereas I would sit in a corner, hoping no one would notice I was even there.

I leave the bathroom quickly and changed into my favorite pair of jeans, which had tears on the knee part. I grab the first shirt I can find: it’s a Harley Quinn and Joker printed T-shirt. What can I say? I loved their crazy, unorthodox love. It made me want to find someone who would love all my craziness. I loved how they both changed to fit together as one. I wanted someone to love me the way the Joker loves Harley—but with less homicide.

As I started to descend the stairs, I could hear raised voices. I wasn’t planning on listening to their conversation, but when I heard my name, I couldn’t help it. I crouched on the stairs and listened intently.

“What do you mean, Ryan doesn’t know?” Alex snapped.

“Keep your voice down, Alex, I haven’t had a chance to tell her, and Dad never got around to it. He thought he had more time.” I could hear the hurt in Stevie’s voice when she mentioned our dad.

Our father died suddenly, three months after Stevie and I turned eighteen. I did not attend his funeral, as I thought he wouldn’t want me there. I would learn later that was not the case at all, and I would forever regret not attending and saying goodbye to my dad.

“She has to be told who she really is and what she is capable of before she hurts herself or someone else, Stevie.” Chase sounded annoyed at Stevie’s reluctance.

“I plan on telling her when the time is right. She has been through a lot, and just being here, in this house, is hard for her. She didn’t grow up like us, with a loving parent. She has built all these walls up around herself, and I don’t want to drop this on her and risk her having a breakdown.” Wow, clearly it was something big if she thought I would have a breakdown.

I couldn’t quite understand what this big secret was that they were keeping from me. I mean, I know we didn’t all grow up together, but we always found ways to talk on the phone.

When they came to visit, I would sneak out after Mom fell asleep or passed out. She only caught me sneaking out once, and let me tell you, I couldn’t sit for a week afterward. She whipped me like a dog, splitting the skin on my rear open. I screamed so loud I thought the neighbors would call the cops.

Hell, I wanted them to call them. After getting whipped twelve times, I was locked in my room for the next two days, with no food or water, just my mattress and a bucket in the corner.

“You need to tell her soon Stevie, or Chase and I will. She has a right to know, for God’s sake. She could have protected herself from your mom, if you or your dad had just told her,” Alex whisper shouted. This was getting more interesting by the minute.

“Don’t you fucking think we wanted to, Alex? We tried to tell her so many times. We went to their house six times and got turned away by my so-called mother. She said if we ever came back, she would expose us to the humans! What do you think we should have done? Kept going back? Risk being exposed to the world? That drunken, drugged-up bitch would have sung like a bird, and you know it!” Stevie had so much hate in her voice when she mentioned our mother.