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Authors: Owen Laukkanen
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Windermere walked over, pasted a smile on her face, bummed a Virginia Slim and a light, hating herself for the need in her voice as she asked for the cigarette, for the way that first drag calmed her down.
She thanked the women for the cigarette, walked far enough away so she could smoke alone. Caught sight of her reflection in the Bureau building’s massive black façade, stopped and examined herself, tall and angular and unpretty, her mouth too big, her neck thin and veiny.
You’re losing it, Windermere,
she thought.
These freaking kids and that Ashley Frey creep, they’re pushing you over the edge.
She took a last drag off the cigarette and immediately wished for another.
Keep it together
.
Just keep it together until you track Ashley Frey down. Don’t let them all know what a head case you are.
Windermere flicked the butt to the curb. Turned back to the front doors and caught her reflection again.
Yeah,
she thought.
Right. As if they can’t tell already.
< 25 >
Gruber focused all his anger on his stepsister. She’d ignored him at school, and now he didn’t have any friends—but neither did Sarah, not after the journal incident. She spent her school hours alone, chased through the halls by laughter, by jeers, Todd’s friends’ knowing eyes.
Gruber set about making her home life just as unhappy. He put dish soap in her lemonade, scrubbed the bathroom floor with her toothbrush, put it back dirty. Poured bleach on her favorite blue dress the night of the school dance. Hurt her in every way he could think of, big and small, until she wasn’t the same Sarah anymore, happy and carefree and dancing in her room. No, she was more like a lion in the zoo when he watched her, dragging herself around her bedroom all listless and defeated, her will to live gone.
Somehow, Earl’s belt didn’t hurt as much, now that Gruber had found his own outlet. He didn’t spend his waking hours in fear, didn’t tremble at the sound of Earl’s boots in the hallway.
One day,
he thought as Earl hit him again.
One day, I’ll be bigger than you. And then you’ll regret every second of this
.
The thought kept him warm. Kept him going. He was growing every day. Soon enough, he’d be a man. Just ask Sarah how tough he could be.
And then one day, maybe a month after the Todd incident, Gruber knelt down at the hole and saw that Sarah had found herself a razor blade.
She was sitting in the corner, her back against the door. She’d takenoff her shirt, wore only a bra, and Gruber felt a tingle of excitement when he saw her pale stomach, the flimsy white fabric. Sarah was staring at her forearm, at a thin line of red.
He was confused at first, until he saw the razor in her other hand. Flat metal, the glint of the blade. He didn’t know where she’d found it. Didn’t understand what she was doing.
She stared down at the trickle of blood for a long time. Watched as it oozed from the cut and dripped down her pale skin. He watched, too, mesmerized. It made a beautiful contrast, the deep red and her near-translucent white. It had to hurt, but she didn’t seem upset about it. She looked enthralled, captivated,
relieved
.
• • •
He watched Sarah with the razor for days before he found the courage to ask her about it.
They were in the living room, watching TV. A weekend. Earl and Gruber’s mother were out buying groceries and liquor, and Sarah kept eyeing the door. Gruber wanted to say something to her, something about the cutting, but he couldn’t think of anything that wouldn’t give away the hole in the wall. So he kept his mouth shut, kept searching his brain. Then she twisted in her seat and the sleeve of her T-shirt rode up, exposing the scars on her arm, long and red and ruler-straight.
He stared. Sarah caught him, followed his eyes. Stiffened and turned away. She didn’t say anything for a long time.
He waited.
“It feels good,” she said finally. “I don’t expect you to understand. You
She thanked the women for the cigarette, walked far enough away so she could smoke alone. Caught sight of her reflection in the Bureau building’s massive black façade, stopped and examined herself, tall and angular and unpretty, her mouth too big, her neck thin and veiny.
You’re losing it, Windermere,
she thought.
These freaking kids and that Ashley Frey creep, they’re pushing you over the edge.
She took a last drag off the cigarette and immediately wished for another.
Keep it together
.
Just keep it together until you track Ashley Frey down. Don’t let them all know what a head case you are.
Windermere flicked the butt to the curb. Turned back to the front doors and caught her reflection again.
Yeah,
she thought.
Right. As if they can’t tell already.
< 25 >
Gruber focused all his anger on his stepsister. She’d ignored him at school, and now he didn’t have any friends—but neither did Sarah, not after the journal incident. She spent her school hours alone, chased through the halls by laughter, by jeers, Todd’s friends’ knowing eyes.
Gruber set about making her home life just as unhappy. He put dish soap in her lemonade, scrubbed the bathroom floor with her toothbrush, put it back dirty. Poured bleach on her favorite blue dress the night of the school dance. Hurt her in every way he could think of, big and small, until she wasn’t the same Sarah anymore, happy and carefree and dancing in her room. No, she was more like a lion in the zoo when he watched her, dragging herself around her bedroom all listless and defeated, her will to live gone.
Somehow, Earl’s belt didn’t hurt as much, now that Gruber had found his own outlet. He didn’t spend his waking hours in fear, didn’t tremble at the sound of Earl’s boots in the hallway.
One day,
he thought as Earl hit him again.
One day, I’ll be bigger than you. And then you’ll regret every second of this
.
The thought kept him warm. Kept him going. He was growing every day. Soon enough, he’d be a man. Just ask Sarah how tough he could be.
And then one day, maybe a month after the Todd incident, Gruber knelt down at the hole and saw that Sarah had found herself a razor blade.
She was sitting in the corner, her back against the door. She’d takenoff her shirt, wore only a bra, and Gruber felt a tingle of excitement when he saw her pale stomach, the flimsy white fabric. Sarah was staring at her forearm, at a thin line of red.
He was confused at first, until he saw the razor in her other hand. Flat metal, the glint of the blade. He didn’t know where she’d found it. Didn’t understand what she was doing.
She stared down at the trickle of blood for a long time. Watched as it oozed from the cut and dripped down her pale skin. He watched, too, mesmerized. It made a beautiful contrast, the deep red and her near-translucent white. It had to hurt, but she didn’t seem upset about it. She looked enthralled, captivated,
relieved
.
• • •
He watched Sarah with the razor for days before he found the courage to ask her about it.
They were in the living room, watching TV. A weekend. Earl and Gruber’s mother were out buying groceries and liquor, and Sarah kept eyeing the door. Gruber wanted to say something to her, something about the cutting, but he couldn’t think of anything that wouldn’t give away the hole in the wall. So he kept his mouth shut, kept searching his brain. Then she twisted in her seat and the sleeve of her T-shirt rode up, exposing the scars on her arm, long and red and ruler-straight.
He stared. Sarah caught him, followed his eyes. Stiffened and turned away. She didn’t say anything for a long time.
He waited.
“It feels good,” she said finally. “I don’t expect you to understand. You
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