Page 63

“Knock, knock,” Delilah says as she walks into my room without giving me time to respond.

“You’re supposed to wait for me to say who’s there.”

She smiles up at me and I force myself to look at her face instead of the way her tits look in the creepy Victorian dress she’s wearing, or how the skirt puffs out and I know I’ll be able to see the curve of her ass when she turns around.

There are black lines from the corners of her lips going down to her chin and she’s done her makeup to make her eyes look even bigger, but the part on her cheek has cracks through it. I can’t work out who she’s dressed as, so I ask, “Which movie are you from?”

She lifts her arm, showing black strings that are glued to her skin like they’re stuck in, but the ends are jagged like they’ve been torn in half.

“A little movie called life. I’m a broken puppet that freed myself.

” Holding her arm out flat to show me the bruise she’s created on her inner bicep, she smiles wider. “Look, I fought my way out.”

It looks real. But so does her makeup, and she’s used liquid latex to make the strings look like they’re part of her.

She’ll be pissed if I smudge them, so I don’t allow my thumb to touch her skin as I trace the outside of the finger marks.

My voice lowers as a door slams. “You’re getting better at doing them, pretty girl. They look real.”

Her hair is all fucked up too, held in two pigtails at each side of her head. She grabs the end of a few strands then runs her fingers up them, bunching them so they’re wilder. “What’s real in life?”

The way I feel about you.

I want to scream it and tell her to be mine all the time, but she’ll be going to college soon and whatever this is between us needs to end.

Asher walks into my room and he almost looks disappointed when he stares at the gap between me and his girlfriend. Delilah stiffens, so they must be in another argument, but she doesn’t stop him hooking his arm over her shoulders and pulling her into his side.

For once, he’s dressed the same as me. That’s weird as fuck. I don’t think he even wears the same color socks as me, but he looks me up and down as I do the same to him. Both of us are in navy boiler suits, the top few buttons are undone, and we have a black t-shirt on underneath.

“Well done, reflection,” he says. “I have the last part of our costumes.”

He’s not being a dick as he pulls out two clown masks.

They’re not the same as the ones in the movie Delilah and I watched.

These are cleaner, simpler, whereas that one had blood smeared up the sides.

The weirdest thing of all is the fact that Asher doesn’t make some asshole comment or act like I’m his servant.

He waits for me to fit it in place, and does the same with his, then laughs. “Let’s go scare Dad. He always holds his hand over his heart like he’s pledging allegiance.”

I can’t remember the last time I heard my brother laugh normally. It’s usually accompanied by some scheme where he ruins someone’s life. Yet this is lighthearted, and I follow him out, turning off all the lights as I go.

All three of us move silently down the stairs and my dad pauses the news as the lights are slowly turned off, one by one.

“Dora?” he calls out.

None of us answer.

“Kids?”

We stop beside the lounge, watching his head twist, then Asher lets go of Delilah to grab my arm. He pulls me with him as he jumps forward and my dad startles. As always, he flattens his hand on his chest and Asher’s laugh is louder. Innocent.

“I hate this holiday,” my dad groans and walks over to us. He smiles at Delilah, then looks at Asher then me. “I don’t think you’ve dressed the same since you were babies. It’s nice to see you getting along.”

Asher hooks his arm around my neck, dragging me closer, as he puffs his chest out. “Me and my reflection against the world.” He looks around, asking, “Where’s Mom?”

“She has a migraine,” Dad says too quickly. “Enjoy the party, and Delilah, please tell your parents that I’m sorry to miss it.”

“I will, Mr. Xandros. I hope Mrs. Xandros feels better.”

Dad smiles, nods, then leaves to check on Mom. Asher checks the time and gestures to the door. “We should leave now. Your mom doesn’t like it when we’re late.”

Has he had a personality transplant?

My brother never gives a fuck about what anyone else thinks of him and if he knows something is going to piss them off, he’ll do it on purpose.

But we walk out, accepting the fact that he’s becoming a better person.

It’s even stranger when he goes to his car and says to me, “Sit in the front. Delilah can get in the back.”

She doesn’t react, other than opening the back passenger door to get in. I have so many questions—mainly if they’re still together. If they’re not, then she’s free to be mine.

I pat my pockets, looking for my phone so I can ask her, but it’s empty and I turn around, speaking over my shoulder, “Go without me. I forgot my phone.”

“We can wait,” Asher says.

Weird as fuck.

I don’t respond and go back inside, but the hushed voices coming from the kitchen make me pause at the bottom of the stairs. My dad is talking to someone, and he sounds happy. “They’re getting along. That talk with Asher must have worked.”

“No,” my mom snaps. I slowly walk to the end of the hallway, hiding in the alcove beneath the staircase to watch her grip the edge of the sink as she stares out into the garden.

“Dora, it’s a good thing.”

“No. It’s not. I wish we never had him. Now they’ll get close, and this is all your fault.” She’s fighting tears with her shoulders hunched forward as my dad gently places his hand on her back.

“You don’t mean that, they’re our sons.”

“We should have only had Asher,” she openly cries, turning into his chest. “If I knew there were two of them, I wouldn’t have had them.”

My dad doesn’t defend my existence. He simply whispers, “I know.” He hugs her, consoles her, because my existence is what causes her pain.

I don’t get my phone, and walk out of the house instead.

Asher has already left but I need to get the fuck out of here, so I take the first car that has keys inside.

It’s my mother’s pride and joy, the one she always drives and feels comfortable in.

I want to drive it off a fucking bridge.

She’d mourn the loss of her car more than me, so I do what I always do and stay quiet.

Follow what’s expected of me to make everyone else’s lives easier.

It’s always the same.

With my parents.

With Asher.

They wanted to watch Asher play football, so I made sure that all my achievements were on different days than his. He wanted Delilah so I never said that she was mine.

I pull up outside Leroux Manor with no recollection of the route I took and get out, ignoring everyone around me.

Brows go up and people pause, whispering to each other.

But I don’t give a fuck. Right now, I don’t have to be Kane, the forgotten brother and unwanted son. I can be whoever the fuck I want.

It’s that thought that motivates me when I see Delilah slip away from her parents’ guests and go into the piano room she practices in. I cut through the crowd, following her, and she stands like a haunted figure in the dark room, only illuminated by the moonlight coming through the large windows.

My reflection is muted in the glass, but she sees it and flippantly says, “Fuck off.”

I don’t say anything and storm towards her, grabbing her neck and turning her to face me as I lift the bottom of the mask to take what I want.

She fights me for all of a split second, then her lips soften, and she moans into me, “Kane?”

I grab the back of her thighs, lifting her to have everything I need without a thought for anyone else.

Not Asher, my parents, anyone. We’re the only people who exist in this moment as she wraps her legs around me.

My fate is sealed when I stop her from asking questions and deepen the kiss, trying to convince us both that she’s mine and only mine.