Breaking the Wrong (30 page)

It was only a matter of time until
everything came into the light and fell apart.

I
step back down the stairs, toward my sister. “You two don’t get it and I don’t expect you to.”

“Explain it to us then,” Eden murmurs quietly.

I swallow loudly and try to gather my thoughts. “I went for revenge, I had every intention to destroy him, but…”

“But what, Emilia?” Aniston asks in a taunting voice. He leans against the wall with his eyes narrowed into tiny slits.

“I’m not talking to you!” I scream at Aniston.

He throws his hands in the air and paces the foyer. I turn back to Eden. “Things started to change. Eden, I know he didn’t do this!”

She steps back like I’ve slapped her. “That’s a pretty strong thing to say.”

“It’s right, though!” I walk in front of her and plead my case. “I was determined to crush Macsen, and instead, I got the truth.”

“Emi, why didn’t you tell us?” Eden asks. And then she says quietly, “Why didn’t you tell
me
?”

“What did you want me to say, Eden?” My voice raises an octave and I keep talking. “That I love him? Did you want me to call you both and announce how I was feeling? That I knew he couldn’t have possibly done it, but have no proof … other than the way I feel?”

“You could have walked away when it became too much!” Aniston snaps. “You could have been loyal to your family.”

“Loyalty? You want to talk about loyalty? You’re my brother! And you set me up tonight!” Anger makes my voice shake. “You knew Macsen was close by when you brought up the list!”

Aniston doesn’t even deny it. “You’ve been lying to us—your family—for months.”

“I owe you no explanation,” I mutter darkly.

“You owe your sister an explanation,” he says firmly.

That drives the knife deeper into my heart. Tears start to run down my cheeks and I make no attempt to brush them away. “Fuck you, Aniston!” I scream.

I walk past Eden, who stands in the doorway with wide eyes. When I enter the family room, I reach for a tissue on the end table, but stop.

My jaw is wide open in shock.

Pictures that were taken down four years ago, are now hanging back up. I turn in a full circle and look at all the pictures from the past. They’re hanging up where they once were and it’s like they were never taken down. Pain so raw cuts through me as I truly realize how much I miss those moments.

“Who did this?” I whisper.

Eden walks into the room with a pale Aniston at her side. He looks completely beat down as he stares at each picture. All of our anger at each other seems to dissipate as we take in the pictures.

“They need
ed to be put up,” Eden says firmly.

“Do Mom and D
ad know?” I ask.

She frowns down at the carpet before she looks up.
“Yes. I wouldn’t do this without them agreeing.”

“They’re coming down,” Aniston mutters before he walks to the nearest framed picture.

“No!” Eden pleads. She tugs on Aniston’s arm, keeping him in place. “They need to stay up. We
need
them to stay up.”

“The past is fucking painful and I don’t want to look at these when I come home!”
Aniston yells harshly.

“Then don’t come home!”
Eden shouts back.

I’ve heard enough shouting for one night.
Tuning them out, I walk across the room and look down at the gold frame sitting on top of the end table. The three of us were four when this was taken. We were all sitting on a tire swing. Aniston sat between us with his arms around us. My hands start to shake as I drift a finger across the smiling faces.

Aniston steps up behind me. His lips are
in a firm line, and I know he’s replaying the scene over in his head.

“You guys, these pictures need to stay up,”
Eden murmurs next to us. “I don’t want to forget.”

“Neither do I,” I whisper.

I want to remember my sister and all the happiness that she gave me. I don’t want to remember the bad.

Aniston’s hand rests on my shoulder for support
, and the two of us forget that we were just screaming at each other a few minutes ago. The brother standing next to me is the one that I’m used to.

Turning toward the fireplace, m
y hands clutch the frame to my chest as I look at the family picture from a few years ago. It was the last captured memory of our family of six.

Eden
wraps an arm around me. “This one is my favorite,” she confesses.

I nod,
but I stare at the sister in front of me. The one with the smiling face and mischievous eyes. The one that Aniston and I would do anything for.

My lips curve up in a sad smile, as I look over her features.

I miss Elizabeth.

I miss E.

Aniston’s grip increases and I understand his pain. I feel it as much as my own grief.

Because Aniston, Elizabeth and I were triplets
and the day our sister died, a part of each of us died along with her. And we’ll never get those pieces of ourselves back again.

A
ll of the revenge I’ve wanted has been for my dead sister.

Knowing what I know now just makes my heart twist. I wonder if Elizabeth knew the truth before she died. I don’t think she did.

I whirl around and clumsily put the picture frame on the table. I leave Aniston and Eden to stare at Elizabeth and run up the stairs. When I shut my bedroom door, I let my tears fall freely. My head hits the back of my door and shut my eyes before I take a step toward my bed.

The lights are off and the only light coming through is from the patio doors. I just want to lie down and sleep, and forget that this night ever happened.

Slipping off my heels, I drop to my bed and lay my head against the pillow. I don’t even care that my makeup is on and that I’m still dressed in my gown. It doesn’t really matter at this point.

My brain refuses to wrap around tonight because I stil
l have a bit of hope that I’ll fix everything with Macsen. That somehow, he’ll magically forgive me.

Tomorrow, I’m gonna wake up and the truth will be crystal clear. I’ve lost Macsen. And I’ve lost Elizabeth—two people that have a piece of my heart.

I close my eyes and I don’t know how much time has passed, but I hear movement in my room.

“Emi?” Eden whispers.

I stare at my patio doors numbly. “Yeah?”

“Are you okay?”

A tear slides down my cheek. I just want to go back to last week when I still had Macsen. “No,” I whisper.

A few seconds later, Eden lays down on the bed. She is perfectly still
, but I know she’s not asleep.

“We can take the pictures down, if you want.”

Sighing, I shake my head. “Keep them up. We need to remember her.”

Sometimes I don’t want to,
but I know that all of us need to look at those pictures and remember the happiness we all once had.

“I wasn’t her triplet. I didn’t share the memories that you and Aniston had with her. But I still miss her too,” Eden admits in a shaky voice. 

I feel another layer of guilt pack around my heart. Eden’s four years younger than us, and it’s easy for Aniston and I to relate to each other. But Eden still lost someone. She has her own special memories with Elizabeth that we can’t take away.

“I know you do,” I whisper back.  

Reaching out, I spread my hand on my comforter. Eden grips my hand tightly. I squeeze back.

We fall asleep like that. And just having Eden next to me lessens my pain.

The truth is rarely pure and never simple.

-Oscar Wilde

EMILIA

When death takes a li
fe, it steals not just one soul, but a handful. And when E killed herself, no one in our family was the same. There was no therapist in the world that could repair us back to the family we once were.

Taking a bite
of my eggs, I look across the dining room, past the foyer and into the family room. I see the family picture hanging above the fireplace. It’s important to talk, to keep those memories alive. I’ve been told that over and over since E’s death. But for my family, we shut down and did the opposite. None of us really talked about it. Not unless it was absolutely necessary.

All of us sit in the din
ing room, eating our breakfast quietly. Forks scrape against plates, coffee is sipped, and the occasional turning of my dad’s newspaper is heard. The silence is driving me crazy. Only two days have passed since the charity event. Two long, torturous days.

No one talks about the night of the charity event. It’s like it never happened, like my heart was never fractured twice in one night.

The truth really did set in after the charity event because I’ve tried calling Macsen, and I get no answer. I don’t want to accept that it’s over, but I just might have to. What I did to Macsen might be something that is unforgivable to him.

I want to reach out and find him, to explain everything that I’v
e been through the last several years but something always seems to hold me back. It’s too soon. I need to give him space, but I don’t want to.

“Emilia,
honey, are you feeling okay?” my mom asks. “You have dark circles around your eyes.”

I have circles underneath my eyes because the past and the present haunt me. I can’t think of either without grabbing my hair and wanting to release a wail of anguish.

Before Macsen, I could look at my present actions as a step toward my future. I had a small sliver of hope that I would heal from E’s death and that someday I would be happy. I thought the key to moving on was my Burn List. But all the list did was bring me closer to Macsen, close enough that when I thought about my future, he was instantly included.

“Emilia?” my mom repeats, waiting for me to answer.

Slowly, I lower my fork. “I’m just tired, that’s all.” She doesn’t look convinced and I give her a smile. “I’ve been sleeping on a mattress in the dorms that makes wood look comfortable. My body is in shock from sleeping on something so luxurious,” I joke lamely.

My mother takes a sip of her coffee and gives me a thoughtful expression. “I have an appointment to get a facial today. You should come with me. I’m sure I can get you an appointment too. I know the best treatment that-”

“I’m okay,” I interrupt and shake my head. “I don’t need that.”

“Sure you do,” she insists. “At least come along with me. It’ll be fun.” She reaches over and places her hand on top of mine.

All I want to do is lay down and do nothing. But I can tell my mom needs this. She grips my hand tightly, and I squeeze back and nod. “I can go with you.”

My mom practically beams. “Excellent! We’ll leave in a few minutes.” Scooting her chair back, she looks across the table. “Eden, do you want to go with us?”

“Ohh…” She shifts in her seat. “I’d like to, but I can’t … I had one a few weeks ago.”

Resting her hands on the back of my chair, our mother glances at Eden skeptically before she pats my shoulder. “It’s just you and me then.”

“I can’t wait,” I tell her as she walks out.

I look back down at my food and hear Aniston walk into the room. He greets my dad and Eden, and when he looks at me, he hesitates.

We’re still not speaking. Both of us feel betrayed.

I’m still angry enough that when I see him, my blood starts to boil. I don’t think I’ve ever been this mad at him. Tossing my napkin onto the table, I stand up quickly. Aniston only raises a single brow and sits down next to Eden.

“You’re still angry at me?” he asks.

Crossing my arms, I glance at him levelly. “Yes. Why wouldn’t I be?”

He piles his plate with food and shrugs. “Just figured you would stop being such a baby and grow up.”

“I’ll grow up the minute you stop being an asshole to me.”

Our dad lowers his newspaper and looks between the two of us. “What’s going on?”

Quickly, I fill my dad in. “Aniston took it upon himself to humiliate me!”

My dad gives Aniston a questioning look, while Aniston glares at me. “I didn’t humiliate you,” he grits out and rubs the bridge of his nose. “I wanted you to wake up and realize what was going on!”

I knew everything that was going on; it’s my brother that is still in the dark. “Well, I’m up and you’re still a jerk,” I shoot back.

My throat constricts as I look between Aniston and Eden. They both stare at me as if they no longer know me. I want to tell them that this person, the person I am right now, is the person I’ve always craved to be, but I know they won’t understand.

Taking one last look at the two of them, I leave the room and hurry across the foyer to get away from their prying eyes.

“Hey,” Aniston calls out. “Wait.”