school like I was supposed to, maybe even get a job and I want to talk to my sister.”
There it is. No matter how much I push the subject away, she always brings it back up. Everything starts and ends with her sister. I can’t take it any longer. I can’t continue to lie to her.
“Violet, let it go… please.” I pick her up and place her onto the couch and stand, feeling too much tension to remain sitting.
“Ivan, I just want to talk to her. I’m not asking to drive up to her place and ring the doorbell. I just want to talk. I could call from a payphone or something if that makes it any better. I mean, you act like you’re hiding something. Are you hiding something?” Her eyes pierce mine, judgment and uncertainty reflecting back at me. Lying to her is killing me, eating away at my heart.
“Violet, you can’t call her, okay? I’m not going to have this fucking conversation with you every day.” I try to ignore her questioning me, procrastinating the inevitable, but I know she is not stupid. God, no, she is so fucking smart and kind, and every day I’m reminded of how she couldn’t belong to me.
“Why not? Ivan, tell me! Why can’t I call her? You obviously know something I don’t, so spill, tell me, because all you do is tell me no, you can’t, but you never really give me a real reason. So, tell me, Ivan. Why can’t I call her?” She pushes from the couch and presses a finger into my chest. She’s angry, and me being here, telling her what I’m about to tell her, is only going to be gasoline on an already burning inferno. My nostrils flare, and I clench my fists at my sides. I want to destroy this fucking room.
“You can’t fucking call her because there is no one to call.”
She gives me a confused look. “What do you mean, there is no one to call? She’s my fucking sister, Ivan. She’ll answer if I call her. She’s all I have left.”
I clench my jaw, really, really, really not wanting to tell her what I’m about to.
“Don’t make me do this, Violet.”
“Do what? Tell me the truth. Make you actually come clean about whatever it is you know?” She’s seething now, and I so badly want to go back to how we were just a short time ago, with her in my lap, that sweet smile on her plump lips.
“Tell me.” She slaps a hand to my chest, making the organ inside ache.
“Violet,” I warn.
“Tell me, Ivan. Tell me now.” She speaks through clenched teeth, and I can’t stop the pain. I can’t stop the words from coming out.
“She’s dead, Violet. She’s fucking dead, are you happy now?” My words are coated in venom. I’m angry, angry that she made me tell her, made me hurt her.
Violet stills. She doesn't look shocked or sad or even mad at me. She just looks like she is frozen in time. She is so still, I don’t think she is even breathing. The silence between us stretches on, and I worry that she may be having some kind of mental breakdown.
“You are lying,” she says, her voice flat and without emotion. “It’s not true. She is not dead. I would know. I would feel it in my heart if she were dead.”
“I’m sorry, Violet, but it’s true. She is dead.”
“When?” Her expression is lifeless.
“A week before Vegas.” I swallow, waiting for the breakdown to come, for the tears to slip down her face, and her heart to shatter into a million pieces.
She shakes her head, causing blond strands to fly. “I saw her. I saw her in Vegas. She was there the night that you took me. I saw her, Ivan.” Her voice is frantic.
“I already told you, Violet, it was the drugs. They messed with your head. You couldn't have seen her because she was already dead then. She’s been dead for five weeks now, days before the auction.”
“Five weeks? You are telling me, you knew she has been dead for five weeks and you… you didn’t say anything this whole time?” She starts to pull away, but I can’t let her go, not when she’s angry, not like this. I try to grab her hand again put she just pulls away farther.
“Do not touch me,” she growls, shrugging out of my hold. I’m angry at myself and at my need to love