Page 154 of Misery

My sister's been distant lately.

Missed three family dinners in a row, claimed she was studying, but I know she dropped out.

The secret sits between us like a wall.

Mom keeps asking about her grades, about graduation plans, and I keep lying, saying she's doing well, just stressed about finals.

Each lie feels like a betrayal, yet a way to keep my sister safe at the same time.

I ended up telling Oskar because I know my secrets are safe with him.

"Maybe she's finally going to tell Mom and Dad," I say, adding a streak of orange to the canvas. "About dropping out."

"Maybe."

But something in his tone makes me look at him.

He's got that careful expression, the one that means he knows something but is deciding whether to share it.

Three months of honesty between us, and I can read him now.

"What?"

"Nothing. Just... Vanir's been digging into some things. Following up on the leak."

"The leak's dead. Thiago's dead." The name still tastes bitter, even now.

"Yeah. But Vanir's thorough. And Fenrir asked him to double-check everything. Make sure there weren't other compromises."

Before I can ask more, we hear Helle's Honda struggling up the dirt road.

Somehow still running.

Still sounding like it's dying with every mile.

She'd bought that car with her own money from a summer job at the mall—independence on four barely-functional wheels.

She parks but doesn't get out immediately.

I can see her through the windshield, hands gripping the steering wheel, shoulders shaking.

Taking deep breaths or crying, I can't tell from here.

When she finally emerges, I notice things that make my stomach clench.

Her car is packed.

Luggage in the back.

Boxes.

Her entire life crammed into a dying Honda.

"Hey," she says, but her voice is wrong. Thick like she's been crying for hours. Hollow like she's already gone.

"What's going on?"

She doesn't answer, just walks up onto the deck and collapses into one of the chairs we bought at a yard sale last month.