Break Me

“Jason, you watch your tone and your mouth. I’ll ruin you personally if it comes to it, son or not.”

I can’t contain my fury. I can’t hold back. I put my hands around his throat and squeeze.

“Your days of having any power over me are gone. I’ll fucking kill you, and I won’t lose one bit of sleep. Where the fuck is Lo?”

He slaps and pushes at my forearms, trying to relieve the pressure from his neck unsuccessfully. He fights to shake his head. He gasps for air, and I squeeze more firmly. He then kicks out, wasting precious energy.

I back him up to the wall and slam his head into it. “Where the fuck is Lo?” I yell again.

I let up enough for him to answer. He chokes at first before finally catching his breath somewhat.

“I don’t know where she is. It’s not my job to track your newest whore.” He looks up at me, my own green eyes staring back at me. “I’ll be happy to show her what a Stanley man is capable of when you’re done with her, though. Missy sure was a lot of fun.”

I swing, and my fist connects with his face.

He smiles at me sinisterly. “All those hours at the gym and that’s all you’ve got?”

I swing and connect again.

He is off balance and stumbles.

“That one is for her sister.” I hit him again from the other side, and he sways. “That one is for her mother.”

He shakes his head. “What the fuck are you talking about?” he growls, gripping his now bloody nose and tipping his head back.

“You and your goons killed them all to protect your scheme.”

He snaps his head to attention. His eyes meet mine once again. “Jason, I’m a lot of things, and none of them are good, but I did not have anything to do with those murders.”

I grab him as I kick out behind his knees, taking him down before he can realize what’s happening. As I straddle him, I am in control. For the first time in my life, I have the power over him.

“I didn’t . . . I didn’t,” he stammers with his eyes as wide as saucers. “None of us had anything to do with the Bosch family murders. Yes, he knew what we had done, and he threatened to out us, but we didn’t have him killed.”

If he didn’t . . . if they didn’t . . .

My mind races.

I take his head in my hands and slam it into the tiled floor. It knocks him out, and I don’t bother to care if I did damage or not. I have to find Lo.

Jumping off my unconscious father, I rush out of the house, not even bothering to shut the door behind me.

Driving home, I try to focus my mind. I try to call the Bennetts, getting no answer.

Where are you, Lorraine?

Once I get to the condo, I pace, trying to think of what to do now, only to find I am making the cats panic as they feed off my energy. I pet Boots as Socks keeps his distance, sitting on a box from Lo’s house. I go over and pick up the cat.

“It’s okay, buddy. I’m going to find your momma. I promise,” I whisper to the fur ball.

The box gets my attention. I don’t know why, but my gut says to look inside. The flaps of the box have separated some, and I can see a pale blue notebook at the top.

Putting Socks down, I sit on the couch, sliding the box over to me. Then I open it and find a sky-blue journal with a detailed peacock feather on the front. I trace the edge of the book before turning to the first page. The handwriting is fluffy, like a female’s, but it’s not Lorraine’s. I have seen her scribble notes around the house, so I am familiar with her handwriting.

February 12, 2011

I sat, watching her sleep. I sat there and watched her. There isn’t another person in this world I have ever wished to be except her. I would give anything to be able to be like her.

Things are not complicated. She keeps her life simple. She does what is expected and keeps to herself. Boys don’t matter; status doesn’t matter; clothes, makeup, hair color, friends—none of those things matter to her.

I watched her sleep, knowing she hasn’t been burned, broken, or felt battered inside. I envy that.

I wanted to wake her, but I didn’t. Instead, I walked across the hall, grabbed this diary, and decided to fill it with the story I want to tell her but won’t, because she didn’t go asking for this kind of pain. And although we are twins who have shared everything, I cannot share this, never this.

I love Ryan. I love him so much. He is generous, giving, caring, and he loves me. He still says it through texts, but I don’t say it back.