Frayed (17 page)

“
I can’t remember any of this!
”

“I’m getting to that, bitch,” snarled Amanda. Her fingers trembled, and she raised her hand.

“Amanda,
no
—” I heard Rafe yell out from somewhere behind me, but it was already too late. Amanda threw back her hand and swung it forward, slapping me across the face. Hard. My head snapped to the side, tears of pain stinging the back of my eyes. I breathed in deeply, trying to ignore the stinging on my right cheek.

“That wasn’t
necessary
,” Rafe said through gritted teeth.

“Speak for yourself,” Amanda muttered. Silence fell, and nobody seemed willing to break it. My cheek stung, and the places where the rope had cut into my wrists and ankles burned.

Amanda leaned against the wall. As far from me as she could get. “Your mother was chronically depressed, Ava, so she took herself from the world. You were there, waiting, just outside your kitchen where your mother was. She had a knife in her hand.”

A blade raised high. Light pouring from the window. A voice: frail, unsure, broken, saying, “Ava. Go. Please, just go!” And then…blackness.

A flashback I’d had before. A
flashback
. Now I knew it for what it was. Not a dream, not a nightmare.

I pressed my eyes closed. The aching in my chest had intensified like fire. “I don’t want to hear any more of this, Amanda,” I said. “Please,
stop
.”

She continued like I hadn’t spoken. “She stabbed herself—right there and then. I guess you could say you were at the wrong place, wrong time.” Her mouth twisted into an ugly expression I couldn’t decipher. “And you saw
everything
.” She placed a heavy emphasis on the last word, and it sent a shiver down my spine. I was glad I couldn’t fully remember that part.

“And do you know what happened next?” said Amanda.

“No, Amanda, I don’t,” I said in a flat voice.

“You stayed there.”

“Stayed where?”

“Beside your mother’s body.”

My mouth went dry. “Why?”

Amanda’s lips quivered, and for the first time, I saw a flicker of something sympathetic dance across her face. “You were waiting for her to wake. Only she didn’t wake. The day care was freaking out. They called the police, and they found you there that afternoon. You told them, ‘Just one minute, she’ll be awake then. Just one more minute.’ Only she wasn’t. And then Kesley came back. She asked you what happened, and you told her.”

I stared blankly at the wall behind Amanda. I didn’t say anything.

I didn’t have anything to say. Amanda told me how Kesley thought she had it worse because she could remember our parents—but God, she hadn’t been through half the shit I had. Amanda was staring at me with an intently piercing gaze. “You still don’t get it, do you?”

“Get what?” I asked.

“She was angry! She was so, so angry! She blamed you for your mother’s death! Don’t you get it? You. Were. There. You could have stopped it. You spent hours sitting beside your mother’s dead body as it decomposed, thinking she was just sleeping! If you’d done something, anything, she could probably still be alive!”

“I was
six
,” I yelled at her, so, so close to tears. “How could she have
blamed
me for something I can’t even remember?”

“I don’t know,” Amanda whispered, her voice harsh, “but she certainly found a way.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Amanda said nothing. She came closer and traced a finger across the scar on the left side of my face. What she was saying without words slammed into me.

A choked sob sounded in the cabin. A sound that came from me.

Amanda opened her mouth and started to speak once more. This time, I didn’t need to hear what she was telling me. The truth sat in front of me, and for the first time in my life, it was so close that I could touch it. And I didn’t want it.

It wasn’t an accident like I thought—like everyone thought.

Kesley. It was all Kesley.
How had she done it and looked into my face every single day, seeing what she’d done? Had throwing a jar of hydrofluoric acid in my face been worth it? For something I couldn’t even
remember
?

I thought back to that day—to the blurry images I’d managed to grasp before they slipped through my fingers. There was pain, a lot of pain, the sound of hurried footsteps, harsh voices, the sound of sirens… The more I tried to focus on each individual sound or thought, the further it slipped away.

“But my mother?” I asked breathlessly. And then I added, “My foster mother?”

Amanda glanced over at May, who nodded.

May said very quietly, “She knew what Kesley had done.”

“But—”

“She told the paramedics it was an accident. You were supposed to be waiting for Diana in the waiting room where you were allowed, and you, Ava, wandered into an unlocked room. She said you must have been tampering with the jars.”

I felt my face crumple. “She…she lied? For Kesley?”

Amanda wrapped her arms around her chest. She looked tired, like she wanted all this to be done. She wasn’t the only one, I thought.

“She lied to protect Kesley,” Abbey said, finally speaking.

“Kesley never told me this,” I said numbly. “She never told me the truth.”

“But did she ever tell you the truth, Ava?” Abbey asked.

“There were a lot of things Kesley never told you,” Amanda said.

“Why are you
defending
her?” I asked in a hoarse whisper. I didn’t look up.

To my surprise, it wasn’t Amanda who answered. May, who was still in the farthest corner of the cabin, replied. She said, her voice flat, “Because she’s dead, Ava. There’s nobody left to defend her.”

“What has any of this got to do with Kesley’s murder?” I asked, heart pounding.

Silence had fallen as soon as I opened my mouth. They all looked at each other, and I understood that
this
was the question they were prepared for.

The question they were terrified of.

“Everything
,
” said Amanda softly. “We… Rafe, what are you doing?” Someone was at my shoulder. Something cold cut into my arm, but as I gasped and looked down, I saw that Rafe was only cutting the ropes that tied me down.

“
Rafe, stop.
” Amanda’s voice was firm.

“She’s not going to hurt anyone,” Rafe said calmly, bending down to free my ankles. The cold air stung my skin as the rope sprung away. I glanced at Rafe, catching a glimpse of his eyes for a few moments before he turned away.

He didn’t look at me.

“
She
won’t,” spat Amanda.
She?
Who—me? “I knew you wouldn’t be able to do this properly. I just knew it!”

“I’m
handling
it,” Rafe almost snarled. “Kesley trusted me more than you, so just shut up, won’t you?”

Amanda laughed, and it was a bitter, humorless sound. “Yeah, you’re right. She probably did. But she didn’t count on you falling in love with her sister.”

A steely silence filled the cabin, and Amanda took advantage of the quiet to yank some sheets of paper out of the pile sitting in front of me.

“What’s that?” I asked, my voice dry and thin.

“Proof.”

I took the proffered papers with shaking hands. They’d been printed from various websites. Some paragraphs were highlighted, circled, underlined. Others had notes scrawled in the margins, and sections had been cut out and glued onto pages.

“I don’t…I don’t understand.” The sheets of paper were limp, loose in my hands.

But at the same time, I was terrified to let go. They were my anchor. If I let them go, just for a moment, I would go hurtling into a cold abyss.

Though maybe that was where I was headed anyway.

“You don’t
understand
?” Amanda turned. She walked right up to me and bent down slowly until we were eye to eye. “Fine. Let me spell it out for you.” She paused. When she continued, she pronounced every word with careful, knifelike precision. “You. Killed. Kesley. And now an innocent girl is in custody because of
you
.”

“I-I don’t understand,” I said weakly. Then, “No.
No.
I don’t believe—”

I let my eyes drop to the papers in my hand.

Dissociative Identity Disorder
, said the title. I trailed my fingers across the page, feeling the rough edges where handwritten notes had been stuck down with tape. Everything was neat, ordered, precise. These were Kesley’s notes—I recognized her handwriting. Phrases jumped out at me from the pages: “traumatic events,” “under the age of nine,” “memory loss,” “traumatic memories split off,” “formation of additional personalities,” “a feeling of detachment or surreality.” The words continued on and on and on until I couldn’t read anymore. Until the tears that had been forming in my eyes became so thick that they obscured my vision. A frisson of fear passed through me like an icy-cold breeze on a winter’s night.

“You still don’t believe it?
Here.
”

And she slammed something down on the table. It was her school laptop. Her fingers shook as she pressed the On button and the screen glowed to life.

“Watch,” snarled Amanda. “And describe to me what you see.”

For a moment, everything on screen was dark. All I heard was the hiss of rain slamming against the lake and the quiet murmuring of voices. They were too soft to make out any clear words. Then beams of light sliced through the darkness. The moon? No, it was still raining. Flashlights.

Someone was lying on the ground, blond hair catching the light.
Oh God.
My stomach swooped. That was
me
. I twisted around in my seat, searching for Rafe, but he stared blankly out the window.

I turned to the screen. The rain was beginning to cease, but the
drip-drip
of water still fell from the pine trees. My figure, small and vulnerable-looking, twitched on the ground before a sudden audible gasp came from my lips and I sat up.

I did not look like me.

It
was
me. That was my caramel-colored hair, my dark eyes, my slightly rounded shoulders, and my scarred, twisted face. I was streaked with dirt; it smudged under my eyes like makeup. And still, even though I knew it was me, subtle things told another story, things that didn’t look quite right.

The cold, almost cruel twist of my mouth—beyond the scarring of my face. The sharpness of my eyes. Even the way I held myself looked different. My chin was tilted slightly higher, more defiantly, more
confidently
.

“Hey, bitch!” The voice came from the trees. Although the camera quality was poor, I could tell it was Amanda. Her tall, sharp figure was illuminated by the flashlight.

My figure jerked away from the bright light, eyes narrowed.

I didn’t remember waking up in the trees, only the cabin. Everything else was blank. Completely, utterly, and terrifyingly blank.

I stared at the screen and watched myself glaring at Amanda.

“You know that’s not my name,” I—
she
—said.

“Whatever. I think it suits you just fine. Now, tell me, why you killed Kesley, Margo?” Though her voice was as harsh and cruel as it always was, her shaking hands betrayed her fear. I—Margo?—got to my feet.

“Don’t,” said Amanda, and she backed up, yanking something from her pocket. The metallic surface glinted in the light. A gun.

Margo’s eyes narrowed skeptically. “I bet you don’t even know how to use one of those.”

There was a click as Amanda flicked off the safety switch. “Oh yeah? You want to bet on that? How about if I can’t shoot you, you go free, and if I do know how to shoot, you die?”

A voice came from the darkness: Rafe. “I swear to God, Amanda, if you shoot her—”

“Shut up.” Amanda’s voice was so vicious that Rafe said nothing else.

Margo eyed the gun, not moving an inch. Amanda’s threat was deadly real to her—and me. “You took me here. You flushed me out.”

“We thought this would be the best place, eh? Brings back a lot of memories, doesn’t it?” Anger sharpened Amanda’s voice into the edge of a knife. “Like when you murdered Kesley.”

“She deserved it.” Margo’s voice lowered to a snarl, every syllable shaking with rage. “I hope she rots in hell until she’s reduced down to ash. Can’t you see? Everyone thinks
I’m
the bad one here. But do you know what it’s like to have a rope tied around your neck until you’re right there—right at the point of death—over and over again? Do you know how much I wished Kesley would just end it? But that bitch drew it out. All for something Ava couldn’t control.” There was a whimper from behind the camera, and it sounded like Abbey.

A low sob ripped from my throat. Here I was—only it wasn’t really
me
—confessing to the murder of the person that, despite everything, I had loved most in the world.

Margo continued, “And you know what the best part of all this is? She knew it was me, long before I killed her. She figured everything out to the last goddamn detail. And I swear to God, I enjoyed squeezing the last seconds of her life from her.”

Amanda’s fingers shook on the gun. “Shut up or I swear on Kesley’s grave I will shoot you.”

“Stop it! Just stop it!” It was May who had screamed from the shadows somewhere to the left of the camera.

“Shoot me?” said Margo. “Go ahead, but you’ll be shooting Ava too. Shooting poor, vulnerable Ava.”

“I don’t care—” And Amanda pulled the trigger. Someone crashed into the side of her just as a bullet blasted through the air, narrowly missing Margo’s head. She flinched away from the shot, which instead embedded itself in the tree behind her.

Amanda struggled with whoever had thrown her to the ground, but they were much stronger than she was. “You promised, Rafe!” she half gasped, half yelled.

“I know, and I’m going to stick to that promise—”

“Let me up!” she yelled, eyes widening. “She killed Kesley! Your best friend!”

“I know, I
know
!” Rafe yelled. “I promised Kesley we’d find out the truth behind Margo. Just give me a moment—”

“A moment? Jesus, you choose
this
moment to hesitate? We’ve been planning this since she died! I
told you
not to get close to her.
I told you!
”

“Your plans never included killing her!”

Amanda launched forward and slammed the butt of the gun into the side of Margo’s head. I watched as my figure crumpled to the floor.

“Stop it,” I said. I dragged my eyes away from the laptop screen. “Turn it off. I don’t want to see any more.”

Amanda switched the video off, eyes leaking tears she didn’t try to stop. The screen in front of me flickered and fell to black.

I felt empty, cold.

So there it was. The truth I’d been searching for since Kesley’s death. And although the truth can set one free, it also holds the power to destroy them. This one just might.

Because everything,
everything
, came apart at that moment.

No longer would I be able to walk down the street without people staring at me.

No longer could I garner smiles from passersby.

No longer was I that innocent girl, that one whose sister was murdered.

Oh, how I’d wished I wouldn’t always be
that girl whose sister was brutally murdered
. Seemed as though I had gotten my wish. Now I was
that girl who killed her sister
.

The girl who people skirted around in the streets.

A killer, a criminal, a murderer.

Me.

“I-I killed… But Kesley…” I couldn’t get the words out. They stuck in my throat like superglue, tight and uncomfortable.

I heard soft footfalls from behind me, and a warm hand brushed over the scarred side of my cheek and down my neck where the scars extended.

“Kesley believed in…” Rafe paused, searching for the right words. “Retribution. That when someone did something wrong, something equally bad would happen to them.”

“Karma,” I said almost robotically.

Rafe continued, not showing that he’d heard what I said. “She wanted to hurt you as bad as you hurt her. So she…” He hesitated, and for the first time tonight, I heard a flicker of emotion color his tone. “She…”

He couldn’t finish. I still didn’t look at him. I didn’t want to see his expression.

My stomach twisted, but I still said, “She did what?”

“She choked you,” Abbey said. My eyes flickered to her face, which was blank and emotionless, apart from the tears that leaked from her eyes. “She locked you in her wardrobe and choked you over and over again.”

How had I not
known
? I touched my cheek, my throat, my neck. And because the scars from the acid extended down and wrapped around my neck, I’d never noticed the extra mutilation from the rope.

I closed my eyes and felt hot tears slide down my cheek just as another suppressed memory fought its way to the surface.

The rope around my neck grew tighter, tighter. I couldn’t breathe. I could hardly see. But a flash of color danced across my vision—ribbons of blond, silky hair. I struggled against the rope, but the more I struggled, the more the rope was tightened. Was I going to die this time?

I jolted back to the present, but when I glanced down at the sweater I wore, I was pulled under by another vivid, warped memory.

Diana, my new mother, straightened the turtleneck sweater and smiled at me. Looking at myself in the mirror, the bruises and scabs were completely covered. “Don’t tell anyone, okay, sweetie? Your sister didn’t mean to. She’s very sorry.”

I looked over my shoulder in the reflection.

Kesley stood there.

She didn’t look very sorry.

But my memories were so scattered. Fragments, shards of things—thoughts, feelings—rattled inside me like loose coins.

I stood before the mirror, alone. The rough, bloodied skin of my neck was healing now, but even so, it ached. And ached. And ached. Sometimes, late at night when the moon shone brightly in the sky, I’d sit up in bed unable to breathe.

Sometimes, Kesley was there; sometimes, it was my imagination.

Eventually, the bruises had faded enough to blend into the disfigurement left over from the acid. My brain had suppressed the awful, awful memories, and I had been none the wiser.

Until now.

My
own sister
had abused me. Choked me until I teetered on the brink of death and then started all over again—all because of something I couldn’t even remember. All the guilt, all the pity evaporated right then and there, replaced with burning hatred. Maybe she deserved what she had gotten after all.

Karma it truly was.

I’d felt sorry for her. No, scratch that. I’d felt heartbroken that I’d been so blind to her sadness. That night when I had seen the noose in her wardrobe, I thought that had been for
her
. Oh, how wrong I’d been.

I raised my head slowly to look at Amanda. Hot tears dripped from my eyes, and for once, I didn’t care.

They knew. For how long?

“When you said you didn’t have a chance to talk to Kesley before she died,” I said to Rafe, “you lied, didn’t you?”

He nodded.

“What happened? When you came back?”

Rafe took a deep breath, then said, “I came back to Circling Pines, and Kesley asked to meet at the park the day before she died. KARMA was there. That was when I found about her involvement in that—I swear, Ava. I didn’t know before that. I didn’t know anything before that. She told us what we know now and gave us her notes. She told us she was beginning to notice things in you for a couple years. An expression in your eye or the way you’d walk or the way you’d dress. Once she realized she might be in danger because of what she did… I tried reasoning with her, telling her she was jumping to wild conclusions.” Rafe’s eyes grew wet with tears. “That’s when she told us about the abuse. About what she did to you. None of us
wanted
to believe it.”

“That’s what tonight was about,” Abbey whispered. “We had to make sure.”

Then why all this? Why put me through all this?

“The…police,” I said, taking great, gasping breaths between each word. “Why not go straight to the police?”

“You think any of us wanted to
believe
you killed your own
sister
?” May cried. “Is
that
what you wanted? For us—for
Rafe
—to turn our backs on you?” I didn’t want to think of Rafe. Not now, not anytime soon. “All we had were Kesley’s notes and what she told us. We…we knew from the files we stole from the hospital that what she claimed about your mother was true but not anything else.” Her voice trembled. “What Kesley did was
horrible
. I don’t know
why
she did what she did. We’re not trying to hurt you, Ava. We’re trying to
help
you.”

I stood, and I didn’t realize I was moving until I was right in front of Rafe. His eyes cut to mine. I couldn’t read the expression in his eyes.

“So you lied to me,” I whispered. “When I asked you if you knew that someone was after Kesley. Did you know it was me? All along?”

He didn’t say anything. Perhaps he couldn’t find the right words, because he just nodded. The sickening feeling in my stomach intensified.

How had he fallen for a
killer
? Had it all been faked?

Part of me, the weak part, wanted to run. And keep on running. Because there was a kind of bliss in running from your problems. But no, I was sick of running. For the first time in my life, I was going battle through.

I stared unseeingly at the floor. “That’s why she didn’t tell me anything,” I said, more to myself than the others. I looked at Rafe, daring him to contradict me. “I was right. She didn’t trust me. Just not for the reasons I first thought.”

Of course she wouldn’t tell me a thing. Especially not if she suspected me. But then…

“Then that’s why she made KARMA,” I said, flinging my words at Amanda. “She knew what she’d done to me. What she’d caused. So she created a trail to make sure, again, that I got what I deserved. She
used
you.”