I gazed up at my ceiling, pondering the difference between how Hans and I were taking our lives being rewritten like this. Refashioned, like putty in the hands of a child, probably worth the same, too. I hated that no one bothered to ask us how we were coping. Not that I would’ve answered but being asked would be nice. My father barely spoke to us anymore, and I wasn’t sure when that had started to happen. He used to check on us every night before we slept, just to say goodnight. His gruff way of telling us he loved us. That was before puberty set in and we started to bring our friends over, and sometime later, girls. I guess that was when he had stopped his nightly ritual.
A knock sounded on the door, and Hans sauntered in, not waiting for me to answer. “Busy?”
I didn’t bother answering him. He knew my inner workings almost as well as I did, and sometimes even more.
“Why are you being so nice to her?” Why are you making this harder for me?
He shrugged. “I like to see them struggle at the end.”
I laughed, which sounded something between a snort and a bray of a dying animal to my ears. I forgot how sick Hans really was. It said something about his superb acting skills.
“Why are you so soft on her anyway? When are you gonna bring out the big guns?”
I shook my head. I didn’t tend that way, and he knew it. “I just want her and her mom to leave, not become all broken.” Like us, was what that sentence implied.
“Well, where’s the fun in that?” He looked slightly disappointed but I could see he didn’t care about Ella and her mom. This was my battle to wage, and he wasn’t invested in it. We were eighteen – nothing was keeping us at home really except perhaps each other, and the free room and board, free food, free everything. Speaking to our father about accessing our trust funds – there was too much energy involved in that. The unspoken agreement was that we would be able to access it once we showed enough “maturity” - and who knew what my father’s definition of that was. Grandkids, maybe?
“Well, when you’re done with her, I don’t mind your seconds.” He said it so off-handedly I just stared, and if it weren’t for the fact that he looked exactly like me, I would have trouble believing we shared the same blood.
“Seriously, bro, don’t go there.”
He shrugged again and gave me the smile that won many hearts over the years. “Your loss.”
In spite of myself, I thought about Hans' words. He was right, I was being too soft. But the point was just to have her and her mom leave so whatever took minimum effort would be fine. It wasn't that she inspired any particular hatred herself, honestly, even with her primness. It was that she made the unfortunate decision to replace two very important people in my life. And for that she had to pay.
The next day at school changed my mind about the whole minimum effort thing. The girl still had her chin up despite wobbling horribly down the school halls in her cast and crutches. My locker joke had died down and people had moved on, forgetting to make her feel like an outcast again. Her geeky friends surrounded her and she looked especially happy with the paper she had gotten back from Mr. Moore. But it was the smile that did it for me. Despite having a twisted ankle, being off the cheerleading team and being habitually abused by someone she lived with, she smiled. This would not do. I needed to step up my game. And I would start tonight.
Chapter 11
Ella
I stretched my arms above me indulgently, happy to have had a good night's sleep. Outside, the sun blessed us with what looked to be a sunny Saturday morning and I realized that it was the first time since I had arrived in Gray Lake that it wasn't so cold. I swung my legs out of the bed and walked to the bathroom, anticipating a nice, hot shower. That was when I saw my reflection in the mirror. My heart plummeted like a dead weight into a bottomless lake, despair and fury bleeding together as one. A short scream escaped me but I quickly clamped a hand over my mouth. The bastard would not have the satisfaction of hearing my pain.
The girl with the choppy, uneven hair looked back at me, horror marring her features. I had bangs now that stuck-up in all directions because of how short they were. The once-long strands were now cut in varying lengths so that I looked like I had put on an ill-chosen wig. My beautiful hair, all gone. I had never been particularly vain, but which girl didn’t have an attachment to her hair? Which human? I tamped down the sob that threatened to escape me. This was too much. Cole had gone too far. He had stepped over many lines that I had been willing to turn a blind eye on, but enough was enough. I was going to put a stop to his nonsense.
***
I left the hairdresser’s with a feeling of deep satisfaction and renewed self-confidence. My hair was styled into a sophisticated short bob that Dawn, the hairdresser, had assured me would take minimal effort every morning. I looked like a young Jennifer Lawrence. Jules - who I had brought along with me - agreed that people at school were going to do a double-take.
