Page 53 of Marked

She shoves my arms away and takes three long strides away before turning back to me. New tears are filling her eyes.

“He said ‘Which is it?” She swallows. “And she looked at us both, whispered ‘I’m sorry…’” She slaps her hand over her mouth. “And she said my name. A second later, he shot Quinn in the head. Oh, god!” She doubles over, wrapping her arms around her waist, like the pain is too much.

“All right. Okay,” I reach for her, needing to pull her into me, to absorb her pain. I can take it in like a sponge, she doesn’t deserve it. She shouldn’t have this sort of darkness touching her soul.

“No, Zack,” she sobs, falling to her knees. In a heartbeat, I’m on the floor with her, pulling her into my embrace. She sucks in air, trying to fill her lungs.

“She wasn’t choosing me to survive. She chose me to die.”

The room is dark when I wake up. We’re not at my apartment anymore. Zack packed for me, and when I was ready, he walked me down to his car and we left my place, my life, behind.

I can’t go back there.

Not ever.

I don’t even want to be in the state.

I roll over in this massive bed and curl my knees up to my chin. I’ve never been so comfortable while feeling this miserable before.

Zack drove us over an hour away from home, to the city. We’re in a building with a doorman. The elevator needed a security code to get us up to the apartment. Only in movies have I seen such luxury.

I don’t know how he got this place for us, and I’m not sure I want to ask.

Blinking the sleep from my eyes, I push myself up to sit against the headboard.

My head feels like it was used to bowl a perfectgame last night. It goes well with the burning and dryness of my eyeballs.

Crying gives me the worst hangovers.

I grab my phone from the nightstand where Zack left it for me while he’s out.

There are two messages. One is from Zack.

Don’t open the door for anyone, little bird. I’ll be home soon.

And one is from my mom.

Hey, hun, thanks for your help yesterday. That Zack guy is pretty cute. Where’d you say you met him? Anyway, I thought we could meet up for lunch tomorrow?

I stare at my mom’s message.

Lunch. She wants to have lunch.

Anger rolls through me, and I drop the phone onto the bed, shoving it away from me.

Ten years. I’ve spent the last ten years weighed down by guilt over my mother picking me instead of Quinn. I’d felt like I may as well have been the one who pulled the trigger.

Mom had said my name. She’s chosen to give me life over Quinn. I’d always justified my mother’s actions, that there hadn’t really been a choice. They would have kept hurting us.

Me and Quinn.

Not her.

Just like Artie’d said. He’d been adamant about that point. They’d never hurt Mom. She’d been made to watch at the end. She’d been in the room some of the time they were messing with us, but they’d never put a finger on her.

Even when they dragged her out of the room, and we thought they were doing horrible things to her, she always came back clean and untouched.

“Harley!” Zack calls to me, probably searching this massive place. But I’m exactly where he left me.

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