The Lucky Ones(100)

“Reminding people of their stupid mistakes is what family’s for,” Deacon said.

Allison carefully put the dragons back in the box and carelessly threw her arms around Deacon.

“Hey, yo,” he said. “Calm down. I’m already sleeping with one sister.”

Allison laughed. “God, you’re terrible. I love you so much.”

Deacon’s arms tightened around her. She felt his chest heave with a breath.

“Dad would never hurt anybody, you know,” Deacon said. “Not on purpose. Never hurt anyone in his life. His entire life all he did was help people, help kids.”

“I know he did,” Allison said, forcing a smile. “He was a very sick man. That’s all. But thank you for the pepper spray. I didn’t think I’d have to use it.”

“I’m just glad you’re okay, sis.”

“You and me both.”

Before Allison could say anything else, Thora stuck her head in the room.

“Hey,” Thora said.

Deacon stepped back, far back, away from Allison.

“I wasn’t doing nothing,” Deacon said.

“Likely story,” Thora said. “I need Allison for a minute.”

“Girl talk?” Deacon asked.

“Yes,” Thora said. She grabbed him by the collar of his shirt, kissed him good and hard and finished with a firm, “Out.”

Deacon left smiling.

“Good to see him smiling,” Allison said.

“He’s trying to be okay,” Thora said. “He’s having a rough time with all this.”

“I’m sure he is,” Allison said, nodding.

“But we’ll get there.” Thora went and sat down on Deacon’s messy bed. The whole room was a hurricane of clothes and computers and sketchbooks and dirty dishes. Just like when he was a kid. Minus the conspicuous box of condoms on the cluttered night table. Thora caught her looking at them and smiled sadly.

“We can’t have kids,” Thora said.

“Because legally you’re siblings?” Allison asked although she knew already that wasn’t why.

Thora was wearing faded jeans and an oversize Oregon State Beavers sweatshirt that Allison guessed she’d stolen from Deacon. She looked tired and small, but not as sad as Roland, and not nearly as sad as Deacon.

“Because psychopathy has a genetic component,” Thora said. “Not that Deacon knows that’s what he is—was. I just told him I don’t want kids.”

“So you know then?” Allison asked.

Thora lifted her empty hands. “I learned a lot when I broke in and read Dad’s files. I learned what we were before Dad. I figured the rest out on my own.”

“Are you sure? I mean, about what you are?” Allison asked, finding it impossible to imagine Thora as a psychopath. And yet...

“Can’t take the risk,” Thora said. “Deacon’s biological father is as horrible as it gets. He killed Deacon’s mom.”

“I knew he’d killed someone but not Deacon’s mother.”

“Deac’s scared he’ll turn into his father one day.”

Allison thought of the pepper spray Deacon had given her. Her and Thora. He needed to protect the two women in the house. From who? From himself.

“I did some research after I found out what we were,” Thora said. “They don’t even diagnose children with psychopathy anymore. They wait until you’re eighteen. You know why?”

Allison waited for the answer.

“All adults diagnosed as psychopaths showed symptoms of it as kids,” Thora said. “But not all the kids who show those same traits turned out to be psychopaths. Basically...some kids grow out of it. We might have grown out of it. But maybe not.”

“I’m so sorry,” Allison said. And she was truly sorry. The word sorry seemed far too small here, like giving a penny to a man who’d just lost a million dollars. Thora, Deacon and Roland had been subjected to an unethical, unlawful, untried and untested surgery on their brains that had completely and inalterably changed their personalities. And it had been their father who’d done it to them.

“You do want kids, don’t you?” Allison could tell from the aching in her eyes.

Thora whispered a tortured, “Yes.”

“There’s always adoption,” Allison said.

Thora smiled. “True. I’d like that. Maybe someday. But in case you were planning on kids with Roland, you should know—”

“I know,” Allison said. “He told me.”

“Good.” Thora rubbed her face and pushed her hair back off her forehead. She looked exhausted. Allison wanted to send her to bed right that second but it seemed Thora was intent on getting everything off her chest.

“Deacon started having nightmares when he was twelve,” Thora said. “Not nightmares, night terrors. He’d dream about animals attacking him, and he’d wake up crying.”

Allison shuddered in sympathy.

“He didn’t want to tell anyone but I got him to tell me. You know, since I’m his ‘twin.’ After everyone went to bed, I’d go to his room to sleep with him. He slept better when I was with him. If he woke up crying, I’d comfort him. One night he told me he was scared it wasn’t the slug that did it.”