shitty parts of someone rather than the good ones. Whatever the reason, I felt like I’d been dealing with it my entire life.
I was the family fuck up. Mean. Wild. Selfish. Liar.
For a long time, I’d owned it. I’d played into the role that I’d been cast because honestly, there hadn’t been a different role to play. My older brother Cam was the child my parents had chosen. They’d adopted him after his entire first family had died, and he’d been fully formed when they added him to our family, his personality already set. He was a leader. Before he became my brother, he’d already been the oldest child, the oldest sibling. He was patient and helpful and he adored my mom, which meant he always went out of his way to make her happy.
My little sister Lily was different. Where Cam was a natural born leader, Lily was a follower. She was easy, because she was so damn sweet. From the minute she was born, it was like our world revolved around her. And I understood it, I really did. She was brilliant, really and truly brilliant, like my dad. Her intelligence was intimidating, but she never held it over anyone. It was like she didn’t even realize how much smarter she was than nearly everyone around her. She was just sweet, in a way that wasn’t grating or annoying. So when she lost her sight at eleven years old? It rocked our family to the very foundation and what little attention hadn’t been focused on her before, became hyper-focused on her afterward.
I also had another little sister, Charlie, who came after Lily became blind.
Rubbing my fingers over my lips, I fought against the urge to cry.
I didn’t know Charlie very well. She was born when I was nearly out of the house, and most of my memories with her were when she was still called swimming, fimming, because she couldn’t make the s sound. She was a really cool kid, I knew that much, but we hadn’t spent much time together since I’d moved away. It was my fault. I hadn’t made an effort.
I’d escaped Oregon because I’d been the fuck up. Because I had put so much importance on getting my parents’ attention—on getting anyone’s attention—that it was suffocating me.
I was the middle child and because of that, I’d naturally found myself doing anything and everything to get my parents’ attention and affection. Hell, even their anger had been better than feeling ignored. And when I was young, it hadn’t been terrible. I’d been bratty, sure. But it wasn’t until the early summer day when our family had been attacked, and I’d found myself stumbling through the carnage, that things had changed.
No one came to me. No one asked if I was okay. No one held me.
Because I wasn’t bleeding, they’d just assumed that they didn’t need to console me. Not then, and not afterward, when everything had settled back into a new normal. I’d been overlooked, again, but it was so much worse that time because I’d needed them so badly.
Mark, who’d been in the hospital for weeks with gunshot and knife wounds, had been the only one who’d asked if I was okay. He’d been the only one who’d held me as I cried. The only person I’d confided in about those moments when I’d thought I was going to die.
Everyone around me had assumed I was jealous. I’d heard the things they said—that I was a self-centered brat, that I didn’t care about anyone but myself, that I couldn’t stand the fact that Lily got all of my parents’ attention. And I’d fed into the bullshit for a long time, believing all of it, because it was easier than facing the truth.
It had actually been the opposite.
I’d been terrified for my little sister. I’d adored her. But I’d also been doing anything I could to get my parents to look at me and see that I was drowning.
“Hey,” Mark called, startling me as he put a hand on my hip. “I’ve got a hungry baby here.”
Internally shrugging off the memories, I turned to him.
“Thanks for taking her for a while,” I said, lifting my arms for Olive. “Is she getting cranky?”
“Cranky, no,” he said with a weird look on his face. “But she started trying to suck on my neck.”
I huffed out a surprised laugh.
“I might have a hickey,” he said, leaning his head to the side to show me.