Eat the Ones You Love (The Thirteen Book 2) (20 page)

“Sarah,” she said.

Sarah’s battered mouth widened slowly into a smile, showing yellow teeth. A trickle of blood ran down her chin.

“I knew you’d come,” she said. “Sister.”

“Sorry I’m late,” said Jenny.

She walked into the closet. Sarah was chained to a chair. Her wrists and ankles were bloody.

“Jesus Christ,” said Jenny. “What did they do to you?”

“Nothing they wouldn’t have done to you,” she said.

“I’m sorry,” said Jenny. “I didn’t remember. Not until today. They told me you weren’t real. They put me in an institution so I’d forget.”

“You’re here now,” rasped Sarah. There was something cold in her voice. Something angry. “Where’s Mother?”

“In the library,” said Jenny, picking the lock. “My friends are watching her.”

“Friends,” said Sarah.

“Some others from the trials. The Thirteen we’re called. Trix and Benji. And Declan. He’s not from the lab. I met him…later.”

“He…” Sarah said, forming the word like it hurt her to do so. “A man. I had a man once. But he died.”

“I brought him back,” Jenny said. “He was bitten and I brought him back.”

“I’m sure he is ever so grateful,” Sarah said, bitterness dripping from her words.

“No,” Jenny said. “No, I don’t think he is.”

“I need to see Mother,” she said.
 

Jenny popped the lock and the chains fell to the floor with a clatter
.
Sarah stood slowly and rest of the chains fell around her in an almost elegant way. Sarah straightened, her clothes tattered and stained and stinking.
 

“Sarah,” Jenny said. “I’m so sorry.”

But Sarah was pushing past her, walking stiffly and painfully but with purpose. Toward the library. Toward their parents.
 

“What’s happening?” Jenny said, catching up to her. “Sarah, I’m sorry. Please. Talk to me. I only just realized I had a sister.” She grabbed Sarah’s arm and she swung around as though she had forgotten Jenny was there. She blinked, her eyes just like Jenny’s, her face nearly identical except for the grisly scars that never healed. Jenny felt a stab of guilt then for the scars she once wore but that had healed over now. She ran her eyes over Sarah’s nearly-bald head, the roadmap that ran over her scalp. Scars on her neck and her arms and legs.
 

“Fuck,” Jenny whispered.

“You forgot,” Sarah rasped. “But I never did. I was here in a closet, sitting in my own piss. And Mother was always there, cutting, cutting, cutting. I ran away too, Jenny. I ran away and had a life, just like you.” Sarah took an aggressive step toward Jenny. “I had someone, just like you. And then they found me again. Dragged me back. But Mother wasn’t interested in cutting me anymore. I’m going to rip her heart out just as she did to mine. So why don’t you go forget somewhere with your friends and your man, Jenny. I have a mother to murder.”

“Fuck you,” Jenny said, suddenly angry. “I didn’t have to come.”

“Then why did you?” said Sarah. “Did you come back for me?”

Jenny hesitated.
 

“That’s what I thought,” said Sarah. “It was always you, wasn’t it? They always cared about you. Sweet little Jenny. How long did it take you to forget about me? A day? A week?”

“Grant said I was in the mental hospital for two years,” said Jenny. “They brainwashed me.”

“Of course they did,” said Sarah. “Because they wouldn’t want poor little Jenny to miss her sister. We used to be practically the same person. Do you remember? Do you remember, Jenny? Or maybe you forgot that, too.” She pulled her arm out of Jenny’s grasp. She was so thin, Jenny was able to almost wrap her hand around Sarah’s arm, but when she pulled away, Jenny saw that she was strong too.
 

Jenny didn’t know exactly what she had expected, but it sure wasn’t this. She had been so overwhelmed with memories that it never occurred to her that Sarah would be angry. She watched her sister, her twin, limp towards the library, dragging her right leg a little, her ragged clothes hanging off of her. And then she followed.

Sarah reached the door to the library and stopped, suddenly unsure of herself. She looked back at Jenny.

“Oh, God,” Sarah said, “don’t look so stricken.”

“I’m sorry,” Jenny said. “I didn’t know. I left you and I forgot. I just forgot. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.” Jenny touched her forehead with the heel of her hand. “I don’t know what’s wrong with my head, Sarah.”

“They fuck with your mind,” said Sarah, staring at the door, but not reaching out to open it yet. “It’s not your fault. This isn’t about you right now.”

“It’s about us,” said Jenny.

“No,” said Sarah. “Not this time.”

“Because of Rafi.”

She tensed, clenching her fists, then relaxed, the anger staying in her eyes.

“Yes. Because of Rafi.”

Jenny pulled her knife out of its sheath and placed the handle in Sarah’s hand. Her sister’s eyes widened in surprise. Sarah looked down at the long blade and studied its sharpness.

Then she reached up with shaking hands and turned the knob. The door swung open. And Jenny felt her father’s fear. She saw him try to stand and fall back onto his chair again, stand and stagger back, toward the other side of the room where he fell against the bookshelves, several large tomes falling out and hitting the floor. He pushed himself away then, with his heels on the floor, shoving himself into the corner, not looking away from Sarah, not ever looking away. She stepped into the room.

“Holy shit,” said Trix.

Benji moved to stand next to Trix, not looking away from Sarah either. All eyes were on her, this scarred, shaven woman who looked so much like Jenny. The twin who had stayed, the twin who had taken both of their shares of the abuse. The only eyes that weren’t on her were Anna’s, who sat, touching the pages of the book, hands vibrating, just touching the words with her fingertips and muttering, always muttering under her breath. Sarah took a step toward her.

“Leave her alone,” came her father’s weak, wavering voice. “She’s important.”

“Mother,” Sarah said. “I know you can hear me. I know you can understand.”

Anna froze, her fingers ceasing their shaking. She was suddenly silent.

“Mother,” Sarah said. “Where is he?”

Anna straightened her back.

“Where is he, Mother?” Sarah said. “You took him from me.
Where the fuck is my son
?”

“Sarah,” Anna said slowly, her eyes focusing on her. “What happened to you? I looked everywhere…”

“Only when you knew I was pregnant,” Sarah said, teeth clenched. Her hand tightened on the knife. “Where is he, Mother? Where did you send him?”

“I can fix him,” said Anna in a strange, dreamy way. Jenny looked at Declan, who had come to stand next to her. He kept looking from Sarah to Anna to Jenny as if he couldn’t understand what was happening. Jenny looked back at Robin, who was leaning against the wall, arms crossed.

“You have to take that knife away from her, Jen,” said Declan. “I know what you said, but you can’t really let her kill your mother.”

“I gave her that knife,” said Jenny, watching Sarah. “I’m not taking it away.”

“Declan’s dying,” said Trix. “Is there no way that old bitch can help?”

“Dying?” said Anna suddenly. Sarah turned to look at Declan too. Anna laughed a dry husk of a laugh.

“You’re dead already, dear boy,” said Jenny’s mother. “You were dead the second you got close to this family. We are vitriol and blood and curiosity and rage, dead boy. We are greed and pain and passion. We love and we throw away and the only thing left is death and life and death again. And metal and sparks and cutting, cutting, cutting. Shall I cut you, dead boy? I’ll cut you to pieces if you want me to.”

Jenny stared at her. So did Sarah. The room was heavy with silence.
 

“Where is my scalpel? Bring me my scalpel, Grant. The dead boy wants me to cut him. Let’s see what’s inside.”

“Jen,” Declan said.
 

“You thought she would help,” laughed Trix bitterly. “I’ve said all along she’s not going to fucking help you.”

“Trixie?” said Anna. “Little Trixie. Where have you been?” Anna took a step toward Trix, who sneered and took a step back.

“Don’t touch me you twisted old bitch. This is all your fault.”

“My fault?” said Anna, seeming truly confused. “What is my fault?”

“Look around, you evil cunt,” said Trix, narrowing her eyes. “Did you see what you did to us? What you did to your kids? Your own fucking kids. You were supposed to take care of us. Of them. Of Casey. What did you do instead?”

“I saved the world,” Anna whispered, looking around the room, desperate for something. Her eyes landed on Jenny’s father, cowering in the corner. “Grant? Grant, what’s happened? Did I save the world? Did I save everyone?”

“No, darling,” he said, standing shakily. “We didn’t save the world.”

“Then what?” said Anna. “What did we do?”

He paused, looking at Sarah, then Jenny.

“We poisoned it.”

“But it wasn’t our fault,” she said. “You know that.”

“That’s not what I mean, Anna,” he said. “Our girls. We hurt them.”

“Where is Casey?” Anna said, her face crumpling. “Did I hurt Casey? My little boy, where is he?”

“You fucking bitch,” said Sarah.

“Casey, where are you?” Anna was manic now, walking on tiptoes around the room. She was barefoot, her toenails filthy. “Casey? Come out, Casey? Momma’s here, now.”

“You only ever cared about Casey,” said Sarah. “You cut the girls and saved the boy.”

“Why am I here?” said Anna. “I shouldn’t be here. What happened to my lab? Colorado. Casey? Casey?”

“Casey’s dead,” said Jenny, feeling the coldness that seeped off Sarah. Anna looked right through her, as if she didn’t matter.

“It’s not true,” she said, finally focusing on Jenny. “You always did tell lies. Lying Jenny. Crazy Jenny. Always talking about your sister. Where’s Sarah? Where’s my sister? Sarah, Sarah, Sarah. You never shut up about it.”

“Jesus Christ,” said Benji. Jenny heard her father sobbing softly.

“Casey?” she called.

“He’s dead,” said Jenny. “He’s fucking dead. He’s dead and we’re here, whether we like it or not.”

Sarah was looking at Jenny now.

“How did he die?” she said.
 

“The first time or the second time?” Jenny said, feeling Casey’s death all over again.

“The time that mattered,” said Sarah.

“He was murdered. By Sully.”

“Sully?” said Anna. “Yes, Sully. Bring me Sully. He’s the only one who understands. He’ll bring me Casey.”

“Sully killed him,” Jenny said. “And he tried to kill me too. He bit Declan and now you’re too crazy to fix him. Casey is dead, Mom.
He’s fucking dead!
”

“Sully?” she said, weaving on her feet. She stepped back, her knee buckling. “Sully killed my boy?”

“Sully killed everyone,” said Jenny. “He swapped the samples. Spread the rotter flu.”

“No,” she said. “Not Sully.”

“Mother,” said Sarah, firmly, but softer than before. “Where is Rafi?”

“Rafael?” said Anna. “Oh, he looked so like Casey, didn’t he? The eyes. Those big brown eyes. I never could say no to those pretty eyes.”

“Where is he?” said Sarah, her voice pleading. She crouched down to look Anna in the face. “Did you kill him? Did you kill my son?”

“No, of course not,” Anna said. “How could you say that? Wicked girl.”

“Then where is he?”

“I tried to help him,” said Anna conspiratorially.
 

“Oh God,” said Jenny.
 

“I’m sorry,” said Grant in the corner. “I’m so sorry. Please don’t do this. Don’t let this happen. I’ll do anything.” But when Jenny looked, he was looking at the ceiling, his hands clasped. Praying. Jenny followed his eyes and caught her breath. He wasn’t looking at the ceiling. And he wasn’t praying. At least not to any god. Jenny stared at the corner, at the angle between two walls and the ceiling. In the shadows, mounted on the wall, was a security camera. Jenny remembered movies she’d seen as a kid, bank robbers spray painting the cameras that could get them caught. She watched the camera for a long moment, trying to decide why her father would be praying to a dead camera. Maybe he was crazy too. Then she took a step to the side.

The camera followed her, humming quietly.

“Holy shit,” she said. “Someone’s watching.”

“What did you do?” said Sarah, tears rolling down her cheeks, streaking the dirt. “What did you do to Rafael?”

“He was better,” Anna said, smiling uncertainly. “It was a better design. Better than Father’s even.”

Jenny closed her eyes. She heard Sarah exhale a shaky breath. She was trying not to sob, Jenny knew. It was the same thing she did whenever she tried not to cry.

“Where is he now?”

“They came for him. Took him away. My angel. My Casey.”

“Rafi, Mother. Where is he now?”

“Sarah,” Jenny said, looking from her sister to the camera and back again. Her father was still whispering words of contrition to the machine.

Anna’s face crumpled. “I don’t know. Twins. Hair so yellow I closed my eyes. They were full of evil. Just like you used to be. Vitriol and blood and evil. Twins always are.”

“Faron and Angel,” Benji growled.

“Faron,” Jenny said. She glared at the camera. “That’s who’s watching us.”

“What?” said Trix, following Jenny’s gaze. “Holy shit, is that thing on?”

“It’s always on,” said Sarah without looking away from her mother. “Someone is always watching.”

“But how?” said Trix.

“It’s the Group,” said Benji bitterly. “They do whatever they like.”

“But how are they doing this?” said Jenny.
 

“You shouldn’t be concerned with the how, Dove.” Jenny turned to see her father, his face pale as death, his eyes closed. “You should worry about the why.”

Jenny stared at him. “Dad, why are they watching?”

“To protect their investments.”

“I want to forgive you,” said Sarah to Anna, ignoring everything else around her. “But I can’t.”

Jenny turned in time to see Sarah heave a sigh, as though she felt physical pain for what she had to do. Jenny watched the glint of the knife as Sarah used all of her strength to stab it deep into their mother's stomach, and then jerked upward with both hands on the grip,