Mind Games (Mind Games, #1)(53)

I hit him in the nose, it’s probably broken, then snake my hand out and slide the knife out of the sheath.

“Sofia, please.” Sarah stands, holding her hands out. “You don’t have to do this.”

“No. I really do.”

“Then walk out the door. We’ll let you.”

I laugh. She’s so sweet. “Oh, I know. I just need physical evidence for a good escape story. I was knocked unconscious, kept in a cell, and fought my way out without speaking to a soul. I have no idea who took me. Good luck. Take care of Adam.”

I climb out the window, letting the jagged edges of the glass catch on my arms, cut me. Then I run down the sidewalk.

Today is the end. Today I am done reacting. All these years I’ve been turning myself off, letting my paths choose themselves. After today I am acting. I am choosing.

I am going to do truly terrible things. Unthinkable things. But the back of my head is buzzing with right right right. I laugh, slide the knife into my pocket, and run toward the arch.

When I am close I pull out the stolen phone.

James answers immediately. “Fia? You escaped!” He must be with others if he’s lying. “Where are you? We’ll come get you.”

“I want Annie underneath the arch. No one else. If anyone is with her, if anyone approaches her, I’ll run and you’ll never see me again.”

“Come on, you know—”

“This is my only offer, James. Annie right underneath the arch. I know you’ll be watching. That’s fine. But she needs to be by herself. You know I can’t take her and run fast enough to get away. Tell them I’m confused and scared, and I need to see my sister, alone.”

“Why?”

“Annie under the arch. Now.” I put myself in the middle of a tour group, walk casually, circling closer. It’s a beautiful day, clear blue sky. Warm. A day for endings and beginnings. I glance behind me. Cole is tracking me, trying to be invisible. That’s fine. I look toward the arch and see a man—Darren from the hall—walk Annie to the center of the cement underneath. Then he looks all around and walks away. I watch him, trace him. No one can be too close. Annie looks so small. So alone.

Oh, Annie. Annie, Annie, Annie.

I will not cry. I will not be sorry. It has to be this way. It has to end. It’s the only way to move forward.

I keep walking with the tour group. The arch park isn’t crowded but it’s steady with people, and that’s enough. There is a man who has stopped to tie his shoelaces about twelve feet from Annie.

My phone is out again. “James. Tell the man tying his shoe to get away from my sister. Now.”

He sighs. “Fine.”

The man abruptly stands and walks away. I break from the group and sprint to close the distance. I know they’ve seen me now. I also know they’ll hope that I’m going to come quietly after talking with my sister. Public disturbance is their last resort.

Annie looks so lost. I slow as I get close, walk up, drink in every detail of her. The brown hair kept simple at her shoulders. The china-doll mouth, exactly like mine. The squarer-face, delicate chin. The milky brown eyes looking out, looking out but seeing nothing.

She looks absolutely terrified.

I want to tell her it will be okay. But I can’t lie, not about that. I reach out and take both her hands in mine, her soft, perfect, clean hands. She smiles, but tears are tracing out the corners of her eyes.

“Fia,” she says. Her voice is strange, strained, choked. “I’m so sorry. For everything. But it’s okay. I understand.”

My stomach drops. She knows. She saw. Of course she saw. I wish I could tell her everything, but I can’t. Not now, not ever. She saw and she still came. A sob rises in my throat, but I choke it back. This is right. I am choosing it.

“Annie,” I whisper. “It’s the only way. I can’t protect you anymore, and we can never be free. Not together. I’m so sorry, but it’s the only way.” I let go of her hands, then lean forward and kiss her forehead. I want to stay here, frozen, with my sister, for all of time.

It’s not an option.

I pull out the knife, and the sun catches it at an angle to glint like a beacon. I am going to lose my Annie forever. The sob comes out, but only just. “I love you. I love you, but I need you to be dead. You have to be dead.”

I close the distance between us, the knife between our bodies, my hand behind her back supporting her in the last hug I will ever give her. And then I twist my wrist, and the knife cuts, cuts deep, my hand is wet with the blood. Annie gasps. “Be dead,” I whisper so softly only her ears could ever hear it. “I’ll miss you.”

Then I step back and after a few seconds (please, please, Annie, understand, you have to understand what I’m doing) Annie puts her hands over her stomach and drops to the ground, unmoving. I hold the knife out to the side, the red red knife, and a drop falls to the ground from it.

And while anyone watching will be watching that hand, my other slips into my pocket, pulls out the tiny phone, and drops it onto Annie’s hand, which quickly closes over it and then she doesn’t move, not a hint of movement, good girl.

I smile, so proud of her, and say, “Good-bye, Annie. I love you.”

Then I turn and walk away, toward where I know James will be waiting. After a dozen steps someone falls into place next to me, but I don’t look at him. He doesn’t matter. Someone else falls into step on my other side. I look back and see Cole running, dropping to Annie’s side, putting a finger under her chin to look for a pulse.