Page 92 of Sinister Legacy
“You don’t think King’s is?” I ask curiously.
“He’s in love with you, Keira.”
I nearly choke on my own spit. “He’s not.”
He can’t be.
I know he likes me. But in love?
How anyone could love me is a mystery. Especially after coming face to face with the twisted side of me.
I don’t know what this thing between King and me is, but to finally admit that he’s in love with me? It feels like such a big step.
“Ask him yourself if you don’t believe me.”
“But the dare—”
“Screw the fucking dare. Screw Hayley and Ava. Don’t let anyone mess with your head,” she spits out. Then her eyes soften, and she asks, “What about Liam? How do you feel about his disappearance?”
I inhale a deep, steadying breath, crafting my lie carefully. “I don’t know how to feel, to be honest. He beat King up and put him in the hospital. I can’t just forgive him for that. But despite the bad blood between us, he’s also my friend and I want him to be okay.”
She reaches for my hand, squeezing reassuringly. “I’m here if you want to talk, okay?”
Darkness has settled on the sleepy town of Blackwoods. The cutlery clinks on the plates while Mom and I eat a ready meal at the kitchen table. It’s bland but too salty at the same time.
My stepdad has been missing for almost a week, but Mom still sets out a plate for him as if she expects him to walk through the door at any moment.
I should feel guilty for murdering him, and maybe I doa little,but only because Mom looks so lost and broken without him here, even though he was a waste of space.
It’s strange to sit here alone with my mom. We haven’t been alone together since that night when the police hauled my dad away. Shortly after that, my grandparents turned up. From that moment forward, there’s always been someone else around.
I guess, in a way, I lost both my parents that night.
I push my plate away, my appetite gone. Ever since we murdered Liam, the thought of food has made my stomach churn. The way he screamed himself hoarse and the raw panic in his eyes. How he fought for his life, tied up and injured. Somehow, I disconnected from my human side as a suppressed, dangerous part of me surfaced—the part my father passed on.
It’s strange, though. I should feel something, right? Guilt and shame? Disgust toward myself for enjoying it? But I feel nothing when I think about it now.
Not sadness. Not regret.
Not even relief.
Just nothing.
The same goes for the dare.
I can’t even summon the strength to feel hurt anymore. Not after my talk with Madison earlier.
We killed Liam together.
Why would King go through all that trouble for a stupid dare?
Maybe it started out that way, but we became something more somewhere along the line.
“You should have told me,” Mom mutters, giving up on trying to spear an overcooked piece of carrot with her fork. She drops the fork on the plate before reaching for her glass of red wine. She’s been drinking a lot lately as a way to drown her emotions. I don’t blame her. I wish I had a poison of choice, too.
“Told you what?”
“You went to seehim.”
