Chapter 57 Chapter 57
The brother’s eyes met mine in the darkness of the hallway. He didn’t look away, and he didn't look guilty. He just looked at me with a weary sort of pity, like he was watching a movie he’d already seen the ending to a dozen times.
I couldn't breathe. My chest felt like it was being constricted by iron bands. Those missing pages—the ones from the old diary I thought I’d destroyed—were the ghosts of a version of me that was even more naive, even more terrified. And apparently, they held the one piece of the puzzle that Jace had been desperate to keep buried.
I ignored the brother and stepped toward the door, my hand trembling as I reached for the handle. I didn't knock. I just pushed.
The light in the room was blinding for a second. Jace was sitting on the edge of his bed, his head bowed. She was standing over him, holding a small stack of yellowed, torn-out pages. She looked up as I entered, a slow, toxic smile spreading across her face.
"Speak of the devil," she murmured, fanning the pages like a deck of cards. "I was just telling Jace that your prose used to be so much more... descriptive."
"Get out," Jace said, but he wasn't looking at me. He was looking at the floor. His voice was a flat, toneless shadow of the boy who had defended me in the office.
"I’m not going anywhere," I said, my voice surprisingly steady despite the fire in my lungs. "What are those, Jace? What is she talking about?"
"She's talking about the night at the old house," she interjected, stepping toward me. "The night the 'Golden Boy' didn't just catch the girl. He’s the reason she ran in the first place, Cass. Jace wasn't the savior. He was the one who set the trap. He just let the brother take the fall for the fallout because he knew the brother was already a lost cause."
I looked at Jace. "Is that true?"
Jace finally looked up. His eyes were red-rimmed, his face pale. "I told you I wasn't a hero, Cass. I told you I was tired of the mask."
"There’s a difference between not being a hero and being a liar!" I shouted, the volume of my voice startling the silent house. I didn't care if the parents heard. I didn't care if the whole world heard. "You let me believe you were the victim of your family! You let me believe the brother was the only monster!"
The brother stepped into the room now, leaning against the doorframe, watching the collapse of the "Thorne" perfection. "I told you, Cass. He’s an architect. He builds the fire so he can save the girl from the flames. He just didn't expect you to find the matches."
"I did it for you!" Jace suddenly stood, his voice raw. "Back then, and now. Everything I do is to keep the world from being too loud for you. I knew if you saw who I really was—how much I’m willing to break to keep things 'perfect'—you’d run."
"And you thought lying was better?" I asked, a cold, hard stone settling in my stomach.
She laughed, a sharp, triumphant sound. She handed the pages to me, her fingers brushing mine. "Read them, Cass. Read about how your 'real' boy handled the girl who came before you. It makes your current diary look like a fairy tale."
I took the pages. My own handwriting stared back at me, from a year ago, scribbled in a fit of anxiety after a party I barely remembered.
He didn't just stop him, I had written. He encouraged him. He told the brother she was fair game, just so he could be the one to 'rescue' her and look like a saint.
I felt like I was going to throw up. I looked at Jace, the boy I had just defended in front of the principal, in front of our parents. The boy I had risked everything for.
"Cass, wait," he said, reaching for me.
I backed away, the yellowed pages clutched in my hand like a weapon. "Don't touch me. Don't even look at me."
I turned and bolted for the door, pushing past the brother. I didn't go to my room. I went straight for the stairs, my feet pounding against the carpet. I heard the bedroom door slam behind me and the muffled sound of her laughing, a sound that would haunt my dreams for years.
I reached the front door and threw it open, the freezing night air hitting me like a physical blow. I didn't have my shoes. I didn't have a jacket. I just ran into the dark, the pages of my past fluttering in the wind.
I reached the end of the driveway when a car’s headlights swung around the corner, blinding me. It was a silver sedan.
The door opened, and a figure stepped out.
It wasn't a parent. It wasn't the police.
It was the girl from the old school. The one they said had disappeared.
"Cass?" she asked, her voice soft and trembling. "I think it’s time we actually talked about Jace."