The world growing dark as my insane sister absorbed blow after blow, her resolution never wavering, her fingers never falling from my throat.
“Abigail Grant! Detective O. Step away right now. Hands where I can see them!”
Shoot, I willed Detective Warren. Just shoot. But, of course, she couldn’t. Abigail and I were tangled into each other, her hands on my throat, my fists buried into her stomach, two desperate women, one hulking form.
Then, out of nowhere, a white-and-tan rocket, as Tulip scrabbled down the hardwood hall and launched herself, snarling and yipping into Abigail’s exposed side.
White fangs sinking. Abigail screaming. Finally, my sister releasing my throat, staggering back and straightening as she grabbed Tulip’s small, lunging body and hurtled her against the far wall.
A yelp. Then silence.
Me, rolling onto my side. Trying to get up. Trying to get away. Crawling. Kind of. Sort of. Couldn’t get my arms under me. Couldn’t draw air into my lungs.
“Abigail Grant. Hands up. This is your last warning. Stop or I’ll shoot!”
Everyone has to die sometime. Be brave.
My sister turned toward D.D. There was something in her hand, something that hadn’t been there before. The knife. From my ankle sheath. It must’ve fallen out when we were fighting.
Her gaze fell to my exposed side and I couldn’t help myself. I stilled, waited for her to strike the blow. Blood and fire. Maybe this was what we’d both been waiting for. Twenty years of unfinished business.
I didn’t put my hands up in self-defense. I just stared at my baby sister. Willed her to look at me. Willed her to see the big sister who’d genuinely loved her.
“Don’t.” D. D. Warren’s voice. Closer. But also softer, as if she could feel the turning point. “Put down the knife, Abigail. You’re a cop, remember? Catch Me. You wrote that in your notes, because you know better. It doesn’t have to be like this.”
“My mother was right,” Abigail whispered, to her, to me. “The monsters are everywhere. Coming in the dark of the night to hurt small children. On the Internet, on the streets. I see them everywhere. I tried using my badge, I tried using my gun. None of it works. The monsters. Our mother. They are all inside my head.”
“O. Put the knife down. I’ll help you. Your sister will help you. We can make this right.”
My sister staring at D.D. My sister staring back down at me.
One moment. Twenty years in the making.
My sister raised the knife.
“I just want to stop hurting, Charlie. I just want peace.”
I screamed hoarsely from the floor. Detective Warren leapt over the coffee table.
As Abigail plunged the blade into her gut and ripped up. A startled look on her pale face. Then she rocked forward, pitching to her knees, before collapsing down.
Detective D. D. Warren’s voice, louder now, harsher, requesting immediate medical personnel, calling for backup. I didn’t listen to her anymore. I didn’t care about her anymore.
I lay side by side on the floor with my baby sister. I found her hand in the dark.
“SisSis?” she whispered roughly.
“I love you, Abby.”
And she made a sound that was wet and ominous and filled with pain.
“Everyone has to die sometime,” I told my sister, in this last moment we had together. She clutched my hand tighter. I held hers right back. “Be brave, Abby. I love you. Be brave.”
Chapter 44