and then there are chapters describing her “what-if” future, which I can read over and over for the rest of my life. What I wouldn’t give to trade places with my sister and give her a chance to live again. Even if I were gone, knowing that she could have her life back—that beautiful life she so vividly described—would be worth the sacrifice.
I go back upstairs and I hear Sara talking to someone. She must be talking to Emily already. I stand at the door and catch a bit of their discussion. I hear Sara saying, “I can’t tell you where I know that name from, but please trust me, I need to know how Louis knows Phillip Dashell.” There is silence and then Sara answers, “Why haven’t you ever mentioned any of that to me before?” More silence. “Em, put Louis on the phone now!”
I peek in and see Sara pacing by the window, clearly not pleased with Emily’s answers. I’m certain that her reality, which she’d been so sure of before, is slowly about to come crashing down. She has no bloody inkling as to who Louis and “The Boys” really were, are, and always will be.
“Louis, sorry to bother you but I need to know who Phillip Dashell is to you.” She nods her head, listening, and then answers, “I can’t tell you why I need to know, but I want you to tell me if he’s a friend of yours. It’s for personal reasons.” She shakes her head from side to side, which can only mean Louis has just informed her that Phillip is someone he knows. “Is the name of that club Lunna?” she asks, and I could’ve answered that question because Isa spent many worthless moments with that group of animals in that dirty club.
She finally turns to see me waiting by the door and her sad eyes are enough for me to know Sara just got a dose of reality. I know that once she sees the rest, she will never look at Louis the same way again. I don’t hear her end her conversation with Louis. She just dejectedly hangs up.
“You’re right, they were friends. Louis helped him open that club where we met. He said he’s not friends with him anymore, but they were good friends, like you said.” The words of acceptance seem to fall out of her sad, defeated body.
“They are still friends now. Emily told me that Louis and he were coming out of a hotel room with a young girl on the day she caught him cheating and ended up in St. Lucia.”
She shakes her head, not wanting to believe it, but just because you don’t want to believe something doesn’t mean it’s not true. I know that concept all too well. “Show me,” she says and I sense she’s ready to see the truth.
I take my sister’s phone and find the picture that will be enough evidence even for a headstrong solicitor. When she takes the phone and studies the picture, I realize what I’ve done. I understand in that moment that it’s the wrong thing. Sara makes a pained sound before dropping the phone and collapsing. It’s the picture of Isa passed out on a couch while at least three naked men, whose faces you can’t see, have their dicks inside her. You can, however, see Louis Bruel high-fiving Phillip, who’s holding my naked sister’s head and kissing her beautiful sleeping face.
Seeing Sara’s reaction, I know my fail. In the past twenty-four hours, I’ve started to abandon all my silly plans, and now I only have one purpose: to mend this broken girl, not break her even more. I lift her off the floor and pray to a God I don’t believe in anymore that I didn’t go too far.
She comes around a few moments later and I’m not sure where we go from here. I still want to hear about the man she thinks is the love of her life, but at present we need to deal with the big elephant in the bloody room.
“I’m sorry, love, I didn’t mean to shock you like that. You didn’t need to see that. I know it’s hard when someone you know so well lets you down.”
“Do you think they raped her?” she asks, which is exactly what I first thought seeing those pictures for the first time, until I read my sister’s book and found out it was all planned with her permission. She wanted to