LOGIN"Marcus— "
"What?" "I don't—I'm not in the mood." She whispered her eyes avoiding his all the while.p He stared at her for a long moment. His eyes flickered—annoyance, confusion, then a practiced patience that was somehow worse than anger. "Okay. Fine. No problem." He held up his hands like she'd accused him of something. "We don't have to do anything. I'm not a monster." "I didn't say you were." "You're acting like I am." He stood up, brushing crumbs from his jacket. "Look, I'm gonna go. I've got practice in an hour anyway. We'll talk later when you're not so..." He gestured vaguely at her. "You know." When you're not so crazy. When you're not so difficult. When you're not so you. He leaned down and kissed her forehead. It was the kind of kiss you gave a child. Or a pet. Or a possession you were done playing with. "Text me later," he said. "And eat something, alright? You're starting to look sick." He was gone before she could respond. The front door clicked shut. The house fell silent. Clarisse sat on the couch and stared at the wall. Her hands were shaking. Her jaw was clenched so tight her teeth ached. She could still feel his fingers on her hip, squeezing, testing, judging. Tighter. She pressed her own hand over the spot, digging her nails in, trying to replace his touch with hers. She bit her lip so hard she drew blood from it. She fighting back the tears threatening to fall. One moment she was alone on the couch, knees pulled to her chest, eyes fixed on nothing. The next moment, a shadow fell across her. The scent of leather and gasoline and cold air. "Heard him leave." Devane's voice. Flat. Hard. Clarisse looked up. Devane stood in the doorway, still in her riding jacket, helmet tucked under one arm. Her hair was wind-tossed. Her cheeks were flushed from the cold. Her eyes were ice. "How long have you been home?" Clarisse asked. Her voice cracked on the last word. She sniffed and quickly wiped her eyes. Devane set her helmet on the floor with a thud. Unzipped her jacket. Draped it over a chair. Each movement was slow. Measured. Like she was calibrating the exact amount of force required not to put her fist through a wall. "Your boyfriend," she said. The word came out like a curse. "He always talk to you like that?" Clarisse's stomach dropped. "You heard— " she cut herself short"How's that your problem." "I heard him tell you to eat something. I heard him say you looked sick." Devane's jaw flexed. A muscle twitched below her ear. "I was outside the window. Smoking. He didn't see me." Clarisse's hands curled into fists on her knees. She stared at the floor. The hardwood. The dust motes floating in the afternoon light. Anything but Devane's face. "It's not what it sounded like." "Then what was it?" "He's just—he worries about me. He doesn't know how to say it right." Devane scoffed. She crossed the room and leaned against the back of the couch—close enough that Clarisse could feel the cold still clinging to her clothes. "You believe that?" Devane asked. "Or you just saying it?" Clarisse's teeth found the inside of her cheek. She bit down. Hard. The pain was sharp and clarifying. She shook her head. Once. Barely a movement at all. "Didn't think so." Devane pushed off the couch and walked toward the stairs. Her footsteps were heavy. Final. Like she'd said everything she came to say and wasn't going to waste another breath. "He grabbed my hip." Clarisse blurted out. Devane froze. Her back was still turned. Her hand was on the banister. She didn't move. "When he kissed me," Clarisse continued. Her voice was strange—flat, detached, like she was describing something that had happened to someone else. "He squeezed my hip and said I felt tighter. Like it was a compliment. Like I should be grateful he noticed." The silence stretched. Devane's shoulders ros and fell. Her hand tightened on the banister until her knuckles went white. Then she let go. "Take a walk with me." Clarisse blinked. "What?" "A walk." Devane turned around. Her face was unreadable. The mask was firmly in place—no crack, no flicker, nothing. Just ice. "Get your shoes. I need air that doesn't smell like him." Clarisse hesitated. Then she stood up. Her legs were unsteady. Her hands were still shaking. But she found her sneakers by the door and pulled them on. Devane watched her in silence. Then headed out before Clarisse could tie the final knot.The hospital lights were too white. They made everything look like it belonged somewhere else — somewhere that wasn't real.Clarisse lay on the exam table while a nurse taped a cotton ball to the crook of her arm. Devane stood against the far wall, arms crossed, jaw tight, refusing to sit down. She hadn't left the room once. Not for coffee, not for air, not even when the doctor asked if she was family."She's my sister," Devane had said, and something about the way she said it made the doctor stop asking questions.The results came back an hour later. Blood work, normal. CT scan, clear. No aneurysm. No bleed. No tumor, no fracture, no explanation."Physically," the doctor said, choosing her words like she was walking across ice, "there's nothing wrong with her."Devane's voice was flat. "Then why did she collapse? Why was there blood?""Sometimes the body keeps score in ways we can't scan for." The doctor glanced at Clarisse, and there was something careful in her expression — the lo
Clarisse walked to the center of the floor. Closed her eyes. Breath In and out, then danced.The music was Swan Lake. The dying swan. The final, trembling movements of a creature losing its last breath.Clarisse had danced this piece a hundred times. She knew every step, every gesture, every rise and fall. But tonight, it was different. Tonight, she wasn't performing. She wasn't even dancing, really. She was just moving. Letting her body do what it knew how to do while her mind wandered elsewhere.To the garage. To the blood. To the way Devane had looked at her when she said you did that. you. not me.To the kitchen. To the handhold. To the way Devane's fingers had felt, warm and rough against her own.To the photo. To Ella's grin. To Devane's hand on Ella's knee.The movements faltered. Clarisse stumbled. Caught herself but Kept going going.When the music ended, she was standing in the center of the floor, chest heaving, sweat dripping into her eyes. Her feet were bleeding again. Sh
The phone buzzed on the carpet.Clarisse ignored it. She was curled on her side, knees tucked to her chest, staring at the wall. The crack in the screen had spread like a spiderweb, thin lines branching out from the point of impact. She'd thrown it hard. Harder than she'd meant to. The case had saved it from shattering completely, but the damage was there. Permanent.The phone buzzed again.She closed her eyes. The morning light pressed against her eyelids, pink and insistent. She'd barely slept. Every time she'd drifted off, the dream came back—the kitchen, the handhold, Devane's voice saying okay like it meant something. Then she'd wake, and the absence would hit her all over again.She didn't understand it.That was the worst part. She couldn't explain why Devane's silence hurt so much. They weren't friends. They weren't anything. Devane was just the daughter of the man her aunt married. A stranger who happened to live in the same house. A girl with cold eyes and a motorcycle and a
Clarisse nodded. She didn't trust herself to speak.Ella kept talking. Something about a date. Something about riding on the back of the motorcycle. Something about how Devane's hands felt on her waist. Clarisse heard fragments, pieces, the words slicing through her like glass.She'd thought—stupidly, pathetically—that the moment in the kitchen had meant something. The handhold. The whispered okay. The way Devane had looked at her like she was the only person in the world.But Devane had disappeared for a week. And now she was texting Ella. Taking Ella on rides. Putting her hands on Ella's waist.Clarisse was nothing. Just the stepsister in the other room. Just the girl who'd bandaged her ribs and thrown a wrench and held her hand in the kitchen.Stupid, she thought. Stupid, stupid, stupid."I have to go," she said abruptly. "Class.""Oh, okay! Text me later. And tell Devane I said hi!"Clarisse walked away. Her legs were numb. Her chest was hollow. The hallway stretched on forever, f
She hadn't seen Devane for a week.Not at breakfast. Not in the hallways of the too-big house. Only once at a compulsory family dinner. The days blurred together—grey light through the windows, the distant roar of the motorcycle at odd hours, the creak of floorboards that might have been Devane or might have been the house settling. Clarisse couldn't tell anymore.The morning after the garage, she'd woken to an empty kitchen. The coffee she'd made sat cold in the pot. The apple was still on the table, brown and withered. Devane's water bottle was gone too.Clarisse had stood there for a long moment, staring at the empty doorway where Devane had stood, where Devane had held her hand, where Devane had whispered okay like it was a promise. Then she'd walked to school on autopilot, her feet bandaged, her chest hollow.She didn't see Devane that day. Or the next. Or the next.Aunt Helena asked about the bruises on Devane's face at dinner one night—"What happened, darling? Were you in an a
She walked to the kitchen. Her bare feet slapped the cold tile.Then she heard it.A crash from the garage—metal on concrete, a sharp clang that echoed through the walls. Then a grunt. Male. Deep. Then another crash, louder, followed by Devane's voice, low and cold."You picked the wrong night."The unmistakable sound of a fist hitting flesh.Clarisse's hand froze on the refrigerator handle. Her heart stopped. Then slammed against her ribs so hard she felt it in her throat.She was moving before she could think. Her bare feet slapped the hallway floor. The garage door was slightly ajar—Devane hadn't latched it—and Clarisse pushed it open with both hands.The garage was chaos.Devane's motorcycle lay on its side. The mirror had snapped off and skidded across the concrete. A metal shelf had collapsed—wrenches, screwdrivers, paint cans scattered like shrapnel. The single overhead bulb swung wildly on its cord, throwing shadows that lurched and spun and made everything look like a nightma







