Chapter 20 She's Not Allowed to Die
The diary was full of Edith's life. Complaints about schoolwork. Frustrations with friends. Dreams about the future. But most of all, it was full of Alexander.
[Alexander taught me how to ride a bike today! He was so gentle, holding the seat the whole time. He said it would break his heart if I fell. Truth is, I already know how. I just wanted him to stay with me a little longer. Because when he's around, I can see…]
[Feeling awful today. I caught Caroline looking at Alexander. She looked away fast, but I saw it. She really likes him, doesn't she?]
Caroline's chest tightened. She could not breathe.
Edith had known. All along, she had known about the feelings Caroline never dared to speak.
She kept turning pages. The words twisted between joy and confusion, between love for her sister and infatuation with Alexander.
Edith wrote about knitting a scarf for the man she loved, how it came out crooked and lumpy. She wrote about baking cookies with Caroline, burning them so badly their mother scolded them both. She wrote about her dream wedding, how she would ask Caroline to be her maid of honor.
Every word was alive. Every sentence radiated warmth and hope. And every line cut into Caroline like a blade dipped in honey—sweet, but merciless.
Then she reached the final entries. The days before the shooting.
[Caroline and Mom had a huge fight. I think it was about Alexander proposing to me? I wasn't even going to say yes… Caroline looked so upset. She locked herself in her room and won't open the door. I'm really worried about her.]
[Caroline's gone! She left a note saying she needed to clear her head. Mom and Dad are furious. Alexander's freaking out. This is all my fault. If I'd just told her sooner… maybe she wouldn't be hurting like this. I have to find her! I know where she goes when she's upset—that pier by the docks. I'll bring her home. I have to.]
The last entry was scrawled in a rush, the handwriting uneven.
"I have to bring her home!"
Those words shattered what was left of Caroline's sanity.
"No… no, Edith, it wasn't like that…" She clutched the diary to her chest, her body shaking violently.
It was her.
All of it. Her fault.
If she hadn't fallen for Alexander. If she hadn't run away after hearing about the proposal. If she hadn't gone to that goddamn pier…
Edith would not have gone looking for her. Would not have been caught in the crossfire. Would not have died.
And even at the end, Edith had been thinking about her—worrying about her immature, selfish older sister. Wanting the three of them to stay together.
What had Caroline been doing? Drowning in self-pity over a love that was never hers to begin with. Running away like a coward. Leading Edith straight into the line of fire.
Maybe the rumors were true. Maybe in the chaos, when the gunshots rang out, she really had pushed Edith. Maybe her hands had done something she could not remember, something that sealed her sister's fate.
The guilt hit harder than it ever had before.
Because this time, it was not coming from accusations or blame. It was coming from Edith's own words. From her trust. Her love. Her belief that Caroline would always be there for her.
That love was a mirror now, reflecting every selfish, cowardly, unforgivable thing Caroline had ever done.
"Ah!" Caroline screamed.
Her eyes landed on the first aid kit by the bed.
She lunged for it, tearing it open. Her fingers closed around the medical scissors.
Without hesitation, she raised the blade and dragged it across her arm.
Then her thigh. Then her arm again. Anywhere the clothes would cover. Anywhere the scars would not show.
One cut. Then another. Not deep enough to kill her. But deep enough to hurt.
Blood sprang forth instantly, soaking through her sleeves and staining the carpet.
It hurt.
Sharp, clean pain radiated from every wound.
But compared to the agony inside her chest, it was nothing.
Caroline moved with the jerky motions of a broken machine, repeating the motion over and over, as if the physical pain could somehow balance out the guilt.
"I'm sorry, Edith… I'm so sorry… I was wrong…"
She raised the scissors again, aiming for another spot on her torn-up arm.
"What the hell are you doing?!"
The voice cracked through the room like a whip.
Caroline froze. Her unfocused eyes slowly lifted.
Alexander stood in the doorway. One of the guards must have alerted him.
His face was dark with fury. His gaze swept over the diary on the floor, then locked onto her blood-soaked arms and legs.
His pupils contracted sharply.
In the next second, he was across the room, ripping the scissors out of her hand.
"What kind of stunt is this?!" Alexander grabbed her bleeding wrist, his grip brutal.
"Suicide didn't work, so now you're trying self-harm to manipulate me?! Caroline, you never run out of tricks, do you?!"
His eyes flicked to the diary on the floor. He saw Edith's handwriting. His expression turned even colder, even more dangerous.
"Who gave you permission to touch Edith's things?!" His voice was a snarl as he snatched the diary off the ground, clutching it tightly.
"Who said you could read her diary?! You don't deserve it! You don't even deserve to touch it!"
Caroline winced as his grip tightened. Blood dripped from where his hand gripped hers onto the floor.
She looked up at his furious face, and something darker than despair rose inside her.
"You're right…" she whispered, tears streaming down her face.
"I don't deserve it… I can't do anything right. I shouldn't have survived. I shouldn't have met you. I don't deserve… to be Edith's sister…"
Her words came out broken, incoherent. Like someone completely unmoored.
For a split second, the rage in Alexander's eyes flickered. Something else passed through them—something unreadable. But it was gone as quickly as it came.
He released her wrist abruptly.
Caroline collapsed back onto the bed with a muffled groan, curling in on herself.
Alexander did not look at her. He flipped through the diary quickly, his eyes scanning the familiar handwriting. His expression shifted constantly, unreadable.
Finally, he snapped the diary shut and held it against his chest.
"Watch her!" he barked at the guard in the doorway.
"Clean this mess up! Get a doctor in here to treat her wounds! And if you let her get her hands on anything dangerous again, you'll regret it."
"Yes, sir!" The guard's face was pale as he nodded.
A maid entered shortly after, her face blank as she cleaned up the blood and chaos.
The family doctor arrived soon after, treating Caroline's wounds in silence under the guard's watchful eye.
He left behind bottles of ointment and antibiotics, gave a few curt instructions, and left.
Caroline lay there the entire time like a hollow shell, letting them do whatever they wanted. She did not move until the door slammed shut behind them.
The room was too quiet now. The emotional crash and blood loss hit her all at once.
Her head spun. Her chest felt tight. A metallic taste rose in her throat.
Instinctively, she raised her hand to cover her mouth and coughed.
The coughing grew harsher. The metallic taste grew stronger.
She lowered her hand and stared at her palm.
Against the pale skin, bright red drops stood out like accusations.