Page 50 of Kill, Sleep, Repeat: Vol II

I try not to roll my eyes. Of course, Hayley’s already causing a scene. She can’t just show up and be normal. She has to ruin everything.

“She shouldn’t be drinking,” Malik says, looking from my mom to my dad to me, like this is the worst of our problems. “She’s underage,” he adds. I have to suppress another eye roll at his overstatement of the obvious.

“Drama queen,” I say. “It’s what she does.”

“Hayley’s not exactly the type to hold her liquor,” Mom says. She seems blasé, like this is just another Tuesday, too. “Go get her, Sophie.Makeher listen. Before she makes more of a scene.”

“That’s what I tried to do,” I say, throwing my hands up. “I tried to get her to come with me, but she started shouting.”

Dad shrugs. "What did you expect? She’s like your mother.” My mother slowly turns her head to stare at him, and if looks could kill, he'd be dead for real this time.

Malik gapes at him. He doesn’t say anything, but I can see exactly what he’s thinking:What in the fuck did I get myself into with this family?

I look at my parents, but I know they’ve already moved on. They’re not even concerned. This isn’t some big inconvenience. It’s not even a family emergency.

“Fine,” Mom snaps. “I’ll go.”

Malik just stares at me, probably wondering if this is his lifenow. If he's really about to step into a world where killing people, family drama, and drunken sisters causing scenes are just part of the deal. I wouldn’t blame him if he ran out the door right now.

But he doesn’t. Instead, he clears his throat. “So...what’s the plan after that?”

“I have an SUV waiting at the dock,” Dad says, glancing at Mom. “Meet us there.”

“There are a thousand black SUVs at the dock, Michael,” Mom points out.

Dad gives a quick, exaggerated shrug. “I’ll stick out my hand and wave.”

“Can I get a ride back to my dorm?” Malik asks, like he really thinks they're going to just let him go back to his life and hope for the best.

“You’re not going back to your dorm,” Dad says, and I see Malik stiffen. “We’re taking a little vacation. All of us.”

“I have finals,” Malik protests.

Dad shakes his head. “Not anymore you don’t.”

43

ANONYMOUS

She’s not the same as she was three years ago, the last time I saw her. Not properly saw her, anyway. There are new lines around her eyes, her laugh lines deeper than I remember—not that she’s done much laughing—and her spine’s straighter now. I guess that’s what happens when you get older. You carry yourself differently—more guarded, more careful, like you’re waiting for the next blow, the next hit. Or maybe she’s just tired. Tired of the job, tired of parenting, tired of everything.

That’s why we’re here.

I’m saving her from herself.

The hum of the train beneath me is steady, almost reassuring. It’s familiar. The girls and our new bonus kid are in the back sleeping. It’s peaceful. She hasn’t said a word in hours, her eyes fixed on the blur of snow outside the window, but I can feel the tension in the air. She knows what’s coming.

The mountains close in, the snow falling harder now, swallowing the landscape in a thick, suffocating haze. No more detours. No more second chances.

The cabin smells faintly of blood, that metallic tang stillhanging in the air. But she doesn’t notice. She’s too busy calculating her escape, planning her next move. I see it in the way her fingers twitch, the way her eyes dart toward the emergency exit. She’s wondering if there’s a way out, if she could make it if she jumped.

But I’ve sealed every exit. Every last one.

This is it. The final act. The end of the line.

And as I watch her, I don’t feel the bitterness I thought I would. No, I feel something else. Something I can’t quite name.

Alive.

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