Page 76 of Evil Hearts

“Did you go for a swim in the tub before bed?” She rubs my damp hair between her fingers.

“You caught me. I didn’t feel like drying it.”

“What happened in the dream this time?” She sits on the edge of my bed.

“Nothing.” I lick my lips. “I don’t remember.”

“Hmm,” she muses, giving me a cross look that says she knows I’m lying. “You know what happened wasn’t your fault.”

I blow out a heavy sigh. “I don’t dream about that night.” The night my parents were murdered. I had turned sixteen, and all I wanted for my birthday was to see my favorite band in concert, but the show was sold out. My dad found some tickets online and my mother went with him to purchase them, thinking it’d be safer if he didn’t meet the guy alone.

It was a setup. A robbery. The detective said that when my father noticed the tickets were fake and confronted the man, he shot him point blank and then chased my mother down an alley and blew her brains out because she was a witness.

I didn’t pull the trigger, but it was because of me they were meeting some rando off the internet in the first place.

“You can’t punish yourself forever.”

“I’m not,” I tell her, though we both know it’s a lie.

“You can talk to me. About anything.”

“I’m aware. You’d think I’m crazy if I told you.”

“Told me what?”

“Nothing. It was only a dream.” I shiver and she frowns.

“You really should dry your hair. You can make your pillow moldy and gross, laying on it with wet hair.”

“I know.” I glance toward the window, noting the moon looks the same as in my dream. Red and burning as though it’s on fire. Maybe she’s right and the nightmares are because my birthday is nearing, and the guilt is rearing its head. Not that it ever fully goes away. “I’m sorry if I woke you.”

Her face softens. “You didn’t. I was checking on the twins. Try to get some sleep. Tomorrow’s a big day.”

Easier said than done. She doesn’t know what’s waiting for me when I close my eyes, but maybe facing the monster haunting me in my sleep would be better than facing another birthday, knowing I’m the reason my parents aren’t here.

Chapter Two

“You look likeshit, Sis.” Cameron flips one of what he refers to as his world-famous pancakes in the pan.

I wouldn’t call them famous, but they are unmatched in comparison. I, however, am privileged to know his secret. He uses a pre-made muffin mix.

I stick my tongue out at him and my nieces, Gracie Marie and Heather Jo, giggle.

“Is there something you want to tell your auntie?” he prompts the rambunctious pair.

“Happy death day,” they mumble, followed by mischievous smirks.

“Girls,” Cameron snaps.

“It’s fine. The girls are just teasing me.” They aren’t aware of the past. All they have been told is that their grandparents passed away. Not that it was my fault, or that they were murdered.

“Can I get my breakfast to go?”

“Sure.” He packs me two pancakes smothered in whip cream, strawberries and syrup into one of the girls’ bento boxes they use for lunch. “Happy twenty-first, little sister.” he pulls me in for a hug and presses his lips to my forehead like our dad used to do. The affection is welcome and heartbreaking. He stares at me an extra beat. “Be here for dinner?”

“Wouldn’t miss it.”

“Good. We invited Barry.”

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