Page 114 of Lotus

“I’m so sorry,” I rasp out, nearing a hyperventilating state as I stare at my wide-eyed sister. “I didn’t know. I didn’t know…”

Her eyes flare, flashing with something sinister. “Let’s go upstairs.”

“What the hell is going on?” Mom demands, setting aside her turkey baster and crossing her arms, her troubled gaze floating between the two of us. “What happened? Is it Oliver?”

Clem is already heading up the staircase.

“Sydney, explain,” she presses. “You look like death.”

“I feel like death. We’ll be down soon.”

Trudging up the staircase like two ticking time bombs, we slip into the spare bedroom and Clem closes the door, taking a moment to collect her breath before slowly turning to face me. She stutters out her words, her body trembling. “Y-You know?”

My goddamn tears won’t stop spilling out like rebellious little daggers, slicing their way down my cheeks, leaving scars. “Why didn’t you tell me? How could you not tell me?”

“I couldn’t. I…” Her head shakes with wild fervency, her own tears cutting her down. “I justcouldn’t.”

“Who was responsible? Who the fuck hurt my sister?”

Her throat bobs with a strained swallow, head still twisting side to side. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Itdoesmatter!” I shriek, throwing my arms up. “It fucking matters because I’m going to hunt him down and castrate the bastard.”

“Stop, sis. Keep your voice down,” she whispers harshly, eyeing the door over her shoulder. “It was a long time ago, okay? It happened, and it’s done. Let it go.”

“How can you say that? I’ll never let this go.Never.”

“You have to. Please.”

“Give me a goddamn name, Clementine.”

“I can’t!” She paces over to the guestroom bed, sitting at the edge and burying her face into her hands. “How did you find out?”

I follow, kneeling down between her legs. “Oliver got his comic books back from his time in captivity,” I choke out. “We were looking through them together, and he drew a scene where a faceless man was…touchingyou.”

I almost vomit when the word escapes me.

Clem licks away the tears gathered on her lips as she snaps her head up, staring down at me with a heavy expression. “W-What? Oliver…saw? He saw us together?”

A nod.

“Oh, my God… I had no idea.” She weeps into her palms, sniffling and gasping for breath. “I was scared, Syd. I was fucking terrified. I was only ten-years-old.”

My own sobs mingle with hers as I squeeze her kneecaps between my fingers. “Please tell me who hurt you. Please…”

“It doesn’t matter. He won’t hurt me anymore,” she supplies, voice ragged.

“Who? Goddammit, Clem,who?”

Tempestuous cobalt blues scan my face, darting back and forth as her mind reels. Then she spits out a name: “Raymond Ford.”

It takes a minute for the name to register. When it does, my eyes pop. “Oliver’s kidnapper?”

She looks away.

Raymond Bradley Ford.

Bradford.

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