Page 72 of Shadebound
I watched her cry harder then.
And then I had left.
I hadn’t said anything. To this day I’d never brought it up. I hadn’t known what to do with it and I still didn’t.
I didn’t know why she had done it. I didn’t know why she carried the guilt as if it were hers to bear. Bells had been my sister too. But Jinx acted as if it had been her fault, like it had been herpunishment.
Sometimes I thought she wouldn’t still be here if it weren’t for me. Not in an egotistical way, as though I were the centre of her universe. But because when she wasn’t interacting with me or being violent, she did nothing. Nothing at all.
And that thought never stopped hurting.
It was the reason I had come with her to Mors.
It was why I hadn’t been inside my home when the carriage came to get her. Why I’d cleaned my room and left no mess behind. And even packed my notebook and some pens in the hidden pocket of my jumper.
It was why I had followed her even when I had known it was dangerous.
Not a single part of me wanted her to be alone. I hadn’t trusted this place not to destroy her. I hadn’t trusted her not to let it. So I’d decided not to sit back and leave her to die.
Decided that I wasn’t going to lose another sister. Especially to something as ridiculous as a shadebound curse I didn’t believe in. Or misplaced guilt.
Before I’d left, I had written a note for our parents. Jinx didn’t know. I hadn’twantedher to know.
I had left it in my room. I had explained everything—that I was going to try to keep her safe. That I couldn’t stay home knowing she would never come back. So, I would follow her. I hadn’t been dragged or stolen. That I had chosen it.
I had signed away my life to Mors Academy, and explained it so thoroughly to my parents that they would know I had meant it.
Even though Jinx thought I was clueless, I had known what touching the magic of Mors meant. I hadn’t been stupid. I hadn’t been tricked. For weeks I’d been researching the academy for my sister’s benefit, and I had known I wouldn’t be able to leave once I had crossed the line.
But I had crossed it anyway.
By now, my father would’ve found the note. My mother would have been back from her witch hangout and trying to stay calm for his sake. She’d be lighting candles. Holding her wrists too tightly. Pretending she hadn’t known I would go when my father first used the school as an alternative to prison or death.
They already knew where I was, and that I did not need saving.
And I felt awful that I hadn’t told Jinx.
She had been spiralling about it, trying to figure out how to get a message out, how to tell someone I was here, how to fix it before it ruined everything. She kept trying to make a plan, keptlooking over her shoulder, thinking of ways to get me out. And I had just let her.
I had let her carry it.
Because I hadn’t wanted her to feel guilty for dragging me here. I hadn’t wanted her to think I blamed her for something that had been my choice.
But the longer I let her believe it, the heavier it sat in my stomach.
I should’ve told her.
I should’ve looked her in the eyes and signed the truth—that I had wanted to be here because she was here. That I would’ve followed her anywhere. That I didn’t regret it. Not for a second.
I hadn’t figured out how to say it.
And now I wasn’t sure I deserved to.
There had been other things I could’ve been doing right now. Easier things. Safe things. Things I used to love.
But none of them had mattered as much as staying with her did.
So I had stayed, and now I had to figure out how to stop her from finding out the truth. Or perhaps working out a way to tell her without her feeling worse for it.
