Page 121 of Good Girls Lie

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it. Please, don’t hurt me.”

The pressure on my neck subsides. She shoves me away. I stumble between the graves. My brain saysrunbut my feet are planted as if the roots surrounding the graves have grown over my bones, as well. I can no sooner run than fly.

“What...what are you doing here?”

“What do you think? Cleaning up your messes. My God, you are a disaster. Every time I turn around, you are practically telling everyone our story.”

“I haven’t said a word. I swear it.”

“You don’t need to lie anymore. This little experiment is over. I need the money.”

“What money?”

“Don’t play dumb with me,sister.”

She drops the word so casually, so caustically, that I close my eyes.

She knows. Oh, God, she knows.

“How did you find out?”

“The letter Gertrude sent to wreck our lives. The solicitors were sniffing around the flat in Oxford. Kevin said he was your boyfriend and they asked him to give you a letter. He gave it to me. It spelled everything out. Everything that matters, at least. Did you know we were sisters?”

How do I even answer this? I must have shock written all across my face because she smiles meanly and continues, thankfully, before I say anything.

“Well, we are. Damien was your father, too. Surprise!”

“I don’t know what to say.” This is the truth. I am at a loss for words. I am bruised and burning and the air around me coruscates. I have to fight down the nausea.

Yes, I know she is my sister. Of course, I do. And here I was worried about Becca. Becca is a gnat compared to Ashlyn.

She is responsible for all of this. I should have known. I should have seen this coming. I am so stupid.

“Half, Lex. You gethalf. And I don’t think that’s exactly fair.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Stop playing dumb. I know they told you Daddy dearest left half the estate to you. I saw Nickerson here today.”

She finally steps out from behind me, and I bite back my gasp of surprise.

Ashlyn looks like she’s been living in the woods. Her hair is matted and dirty, her clothes covered in leaves and cobwebs. She throws a bag at me. I know what’s in it. The vestiges of a life. An ID card, a passport. A bank card. The key to a flat.

“I need my life back,Ash.” This is said with such derision I cringe. Sod it all, this was her idea in the first place, for me to use the name Ash Carlisle.

Get it together, get it together.

“What are you saying? You want me to walk away and you’re going to stroll into Goode and pretend to be me?” I ask, horrified.

“Oh, but who is pretending to be whom, darling sister? No, give me what I want and you can stay at this stupid little school. I’ll even pay for it.”

“You’ll pay for it?”

She laughs, uproariously. There was a time when that laugh could set my heart alight, the joy in it, the freedom, the adventure. But now, I see it for what it is. A trap.

“A reward. You’ve done such a good job of being me. You’ll claim your filthy prize, hand it over to me. I’ll just say thank you and take the money.”

“What money?”