She shakes her head, disgust filling her features. “And you,” she turns back to me, her blue eyes smoldering with rage. “Youknew. And you never told me.”
Guilt swarms in me, a feeling which I’m starting to learn all too well. “I knew, yes.”
She puts her face in her hands andscreams.
It’s the sound of anguish, the sound of a soul fracturing.
And it’s all our faults.
“Olive,” Dylan tries, once she’s quieted. “I’m sorry—”
But when she shows us her face, there’s an icy mask covering her features.
The survivor I met at the gas station is back.
Wiping away the remaining tears, her face red, she meets Brock’s gaze.
“You’re just like them,” she says calmly. “Disconnected, uninformed, andstupid. No wonder you hate yourself.”
His eyes widen as she continues.
“I asked you tohelpme,” she continues. “To helpthem. And you refused.”
Her gaze turns to Dylan. “Andyou. You’re just as bad as him. Your own family member is being tortured, yet you smile like nothing is wrong.”
The brothers look stricken. Dylan’s eyes are watery as he gives a tiny nod.
“And…you.” Her voice breaks as she looks at me, shaking her head. “Youbroughtme to them! You could have…we could have…”
I hang on to every word, even as she slices through my heart.
Because she’sright.
“Baby,” I whisper, and she bares her teeth, feral and beautiful.
“No! Whatever the fuck this is—” she waves her hands, gesturing at us—“isdone!We’redone! You’re not better than any of them, youLIARS!”
She screams so loudly I hear a dog bark in the distance.
Fuck.
“Stay thefuckaway from me!” She hisses, taking another step back. With a horrified expression, she turns around and races in the opposite direction.
Towards the front door.