More on this book
Community
Kindle Notes & Highlights
“Take your daughter home and love her,” the doctor replied simply. “Never underestimate the healing power of a mother’s love.”
“They’re scared of the brave knight.” “I’m the brave knight?” Tearful, she nodded. “Am I still your lady?” “You’ll always be my lady,” I promised. “Milady.”
There would be a million more parties, but there would only ever be one Lizzie Young.
“Will I be okay, Hugh?” she asked then, looking up at me like I had the answers. “Will I ever be normal like the other girls?”
“You wouldn’t change me if you could?” “Nope.” “How come?” “Because then you wouldn’t be you,” I explained, wiping away another one of her tears. “And a world without Lizzie Young would be a travesty.”
“He looks like Thor with his hammer!”
“Show us those guns, Thor.”
My sister labeled the color as dirty blond once, and while I had no clue about hair shades, I was sure Lizzie’s one was my favorite.
I tried to listen, but I couldn’t concentrate on anything except the way Mark kept playing with her braid.
“H plus L.” I grinned at him. “Together forever.”
“And in twenty years’ time, when we come back here to visit, we can show this to our kids.”
“Elizabeth Eleanor Young, would you do me the great honor of becoming Elizabeth Eleanor Biggs?”
“From this day forth, dear Wife, this sword shall be sworn to you.” He placed his stick at my feet and bowed again. “I shall slay all your enemies, shield you from dragons, and protect you with my life.”
“Why do his ears stick up like horns?” Gibs asked, eyeing the yellow-eyed creature. “Why does he look like he wants to kill me?”
Spitting and hissing like the beast it resembled, Brian lunged for my friend, and I swear I thought I saw his eyes turn red when he locked on to Gibsie and started to attack.
“He takes off all her clothes, and then he makes growling sounds when he holds her down on the bed. He pushes the hard thing inside her and she cries, Gibs. She cries so hard, but he always covers her mouth with his hand and keeps poking her until she stops crying. And then, when he stops wrestling her, when the white stuff comes out, he gets out of her bed and goes back to…he goes downstairs for a drink.”
Gibsie reached up and wiped a tear from his cheek. “He’s bad, Liz. He does it at my house, too.”
“Yep.” Smiling, I reached up and brushed a tear from his cheek. “I’m always okay, Gibs.”
Without knocking. For the third time.
“The next time you walk in here without knocking on the door, I’m going to rip your fucking head off,”
“I love you so much, Hugh Biggs.” Reaching out, she covered my hand with hers and smiled. “I wish you could stay with me forever.”
“You should put a ring on it, lad. Maybe on your honeymoon, you can take her diving off Niagara Falls.”
“Ugh!” She complained loudly again. “Why do I feel like I’m doped off my head?”
Because her son was my sun. “I just want Hugh,” I strangled out, voice shaking almost as much as my body. “Just…just Hugh, okay?”
“Brmm, brmm, brmm,” he snickered, making engine noises as he slowly lowered his ass onto her face and let out the vilest ripper of a fart. “Merry Christmas!”
he had a bunch of instant photos littered on his nightstand. I didn’t bother investigating those because whatever piqued Mark’s interest would be of zero interest to me.
Because my membership stated I was under sixteen, I wasn’t permitted to take any of the medical textbooks home. Therefore, I returned to the library after swim practice and rugby training the following weekend, where I photocopied every passage correlating to early-onset bipolar.
“There’s my girl.”
“Do you think she might have taken the boat over to England because she was pregnant”—pausing, I lowered my voice to a whisper before saying—“and now she’s not?”
“I’ll always pick you, Liz.” Hugh’s arm came around my waist and he pulled me closer to his chest. “You’ll always be first choice.” “For trips?” “For everything.”
Nothing in this world could trick me into releasing this boy. Not my thoughts. Not my mind. Not my broken pieces. Nothing.
the banshee of Ballylaggin.”
“Do you think it would be all right”—his voice was low and full of uncertainty—“if I held your hand?” “You always hold my hand, silly.” “Yeah, but do you think it would be okay if I was the only boy who got to hold your hand?”
Without saying a word, Hugh reached for my hand and raised it to his lips. Keeping his eyes on me, he turned it over and pressed a kiss to the scars covering my wrist.
Shivering violently, I watched him kiss my shame away. Because those scars on my wrists depicted the ugliest parts of my mind. But Hugh kissed each one like they were beautiful. Like I was beautiful. Like I was still me.
Liz trailed her finger and thumb over my bottom lip before retrieving her chewing gum from my mouth and popping it back into hers. “Tastes like you.” She winked. “My favorite flavor.”
“You mark my words, Biggs, one day in the future, when you’re all grown-up, I’m going to hunt you down, and I’m going to put a bullet in your head.” “Oh yeah?” Still smiling, I locked eyes on him and warned, “Or maybe, one day in the future, when I’m all grown-up, I’ll hunt you down and put a bullet in yours.”
“They’re all bad, bud,” my sister replied. “I should know. I’m the one she keeps awake at night with her screaming.”
“I don’t want to be alive without you.”
“You are my whole world, Lizzie Young, so don’t you dare talk about not being alive.”
“You raped your stepbrother,” Caoimhe screamed at the top of her lungs. “You’re an adult. Gibsie’s a child. You defiled his body. I saw you with my own eyes. That’s called being a pedophile!”
“…I finally see what you are…” “…You’re a monster in disguise…” “…You’re a monster…” Eyes widening in horror, I gripped my duvet and pulled it over my head. Monster. He was a monster. The monster was real. Mark was the monster.
“Caoimhe Young passed away tonight.”
Whatever was happening, my parents had gotten it wrong. Lizzie and Caoimhe were in Texas with their parents. Christ, even Mark was in Texas with their family. This was a huge misunderstanding. It had to be.
Lizzie hadn’t spoken since the night Caoimhe died. Not when the Gardaí asked for her statement. Not when I arrived at the house. Not when the doctors were called. Not when her parents flew in from the States. Not a single word had passed her lips since the night the Gardaí dredged her sister’s lifeless body from the river.
Help me, I wanted to scream, you’re the only one who can.
“If anything happens to me, Liz, and I don’t get out, I want you to get this note to Gibsie. Can you do that for me?”
Please help, I mentally begged, and then, whether it was real or not, I placed my last shred of hope in my friend’s coat pocket. Please save me.
He let go.
“You know you were holding your sister’s killer, don’t ya?” he mused, taking the seat on the swing next to mine. “It’s his fault this happened.”
