Page 162 of Quinlan

And ruin Damien’s revenge. He and Liam would get in the car if I woke them now, no questions asked. They were as furious as I was. But it wouldn’t be fair. Rex wouldn’t suffer as much as he deserved.

I can’t do that to Damien. So I’m here.

Uppercut.Another shot of pain that has my molars gnashing. Fuck that. I have ten more in me. A thousand more.

I’m not done. This monster-sized ache in my chest, my gut—my tainted motherfucking heart—doesn’t go away.

The other version of that tragic night was much different from Quinlan’s. The real one. We read copies of the police reports that described Quinlan’s family at the pool. They were there with the kidsevery second, according to both her parents.

Thirteen-months-old Blake Palmer crawled along the ledge. Slipped. Fell. His tiny lungs were filled up before either one of the parents could do anything about it.

Lies.

His autopsy matched Carrie and Russel’s—Quinlan’s parents’—version of events.

Russel received a fine and was fired for going into the pool after hours. A slap on the fucking wrist if I ever saw it.

Neither one of the parents were charged for negligence like they should’ve. No involuntary manslaughter sentence. Nothing. No one’s paid the price for Blake’s death.

No one but his sister.

His sister who was left to deal with the pain. With guilt. With grieving parents who forgot they had a living five-year-old child. A child who was hurting as much as they had. Who wasn’t sent to therapy. Who wasn’t told it wasn’t her motherfucking fault.

Quinlan.

Social services visited their home for a couple of years later and we all know how Rex can manipulate them.

Him. Her half-brother. Her much older brother who didn’t care about her situation as long as he didn’t have to face his responsibilities. Not really.

A million punches don’t do a damn thing to calm the roaring beast inside me. The sounds I make are that of an animal. A reflection of my growing frustration. Of the fury I can’t contain anymore.

Goddamn it, nothing hurts enough. Nothing fixes this.

We smelled bullshit, of course we did. Given her dad’s years of experience, he should’ve been able to give Blake CPR and save him. But we had no proof. The cameras around the pool were out of order. Quinlan, the only other witness, told the police officers at the scene that yes, that was exactly what happened.

They guilted her into saying that.

They…

Hook. Jab, jab, hook.The strongest, most painful punches and I’m nowhere near satisfied.

My fists could kill a man. Instead, it’s this miserable punching bag that doesn’t talk back. Doesn’t cry out in pain. I don’t hear his bones break.

It’s my chest muscles that pump. My shoulders take the hit.

Quinlan.

Her name is nothing but a breath. A scream. A call for action.

She’s not here, but we finally have her. Safe. Cherished. Up in her bedroom, sleeping. She’ll never hurt again. No one will ever guilt her into thinking she killed her baby brother.

Surprisingly, that gentle train of thought helps. I’m as furious as ever, but I feelherhand on my skin as if she were here. And I’m…not better. I might be getting there, though.

I need more of that.

When I walked out on them, she was warm. Enveloped by Dame and Liam. Worshipped in her sleep.

Our version of…

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