Page 193 of I Will Mend You

I stiffen, my throat tightening. Can’t she see Delta is her enemy and not me?

“Since I can’t kill you, I’ll desecrate your fucking corpse!”

She releases me with a hard shove, and I fall back onto the mattress. I crack open an eye to find her with her back turned, rummaging through a dresser by the wall and extracting a serrated knife.

Alarm kicks me in the chest, and I launch myself off the mattress. All notions of compassion crumble in the face of my imminent mutilation.

I lunge at Dolly with the ice pick, aiming for her throat. She turns around to dodge, but not fast enough. The pointed tip pierces the side of her neck, releasing a spray of blood.

Dolly staggers back with a scream, her eyes widening as she clutches the wound. She slashes wildly with the knife, but I leap out of reach.

“Cockroach,” she snarls, her voice harsh with venom. “You were playing dead all along. You two-faced, pampered princess.”

My jaw clenches as every memory of her attacking me first rises to the surface, bringing up a bellyful of resentment. Even if Dad smashed her possessions and made it look like I was the culprit, we could have talked things through. Instead, she struck out at me like a psychopath.

“What are you going to do now, Dolly?” I ask, my fingers tightening around the ice pick. “Even things out by stabbing me in the neck?”

Flashing her teeth, she charges. Blood pours from the wound and onto her white dress, but she doesn’t seem to care. Pushing forward everything I learned from sparring practice, I steel my jaw, widen my stance, and ready myself for impact.

She swings the knife in an upward arc, aiming for the gap between my ribs. I block, sidestep, and strike at her throat. She stumbles backward, crashing into the dresser.

“You bitch,” she screeches.

Still facing me, she reaches behind her back and fumbles through the drawer, presumably looking for a weapon moredeadly than a knife. I charge at her, narrowly missing an attempt to gouge my eyes.

“Wake up. All I ever did was exist.” I kick her wrist, making the knife fly across the room.

She whirls on me, her face twisted into a rictus of rage. “You’ve never suffered a day in your life!”

“Bullshit.”

With a scream, she charges. I pivot, but she adjusts course and tackles me to the bed. The mattress sags under our combined weight, and we roll across its surface, grappling for control. She gets on top, her hands wrapping around my throat.

“If you think a month in the loony bin matches years of being raped while killing and nearly being killed for Delta, then you’re insane.”

“Then team up with me and kill him,” I snap.

She draws backward for a head butt. At the last minute, I punch her neck wound, releasing another spray of blood. She cries out, her grip loosening enough for me to twist free and roll off the bed. Landing on my feet, I glance around the room and rush to where she dropped the knife.

Dolly leaps off the bed and jumps on my back. “Mom handed you everything on a golden platter.” She tries to cut off my air. “I had to fight and fawn and fuck to stay alive.”

I charge backward, slamming her into the wall, making her cry out. When she doesn’t release her grip around my neck, I back us into the wardrobe, knocking over a small table covered with cosmetics.

Releasing her grip, she drops to the floor, panting hard. “Is that all you’ve got?”

Ignoring her, I pick up the fallen knife. “I’m sorry your life was a misery, but it wasn’t my fault.”

“Bullshit!” she screams, clutching her neck.

Her gaze is unfocused, and I wonder if it’s just the blood loss or if she’s also under the influence of drugs. I can’t imagine existing alongside Delta without needing chemicals to muffle the horror.

“Mom’s diary explained it all. We weren’t even Dad’s kids. He was an FBI agent?—”

“I know,” she snaps.

I flinch. “What?”

“Delta told me everything. You don’t have to tell me what Kappa did, or that Lambda plotted to steal everything away from Mom and leave her destitute, because I already know.”

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