We Told Six Lies(79)

“I’m here,” I say against her neck even as my entire body throbs with anger. I want to end the person who did this to her.

“It’s your brother.” Molly turns in my arms, her terrified eyes searching for him. “He’s the one who—”

When I hear footfalls crunching through the snow, I know it is him.

I feel that it’s him.

I release Molly, push her behind me, and turn to face my brother.

He appears from the trees, his head tilted to one side, and it’s like I’m back beside that pond skipping rocks.

He looks like me, his face shaped only a touch differently.

His eyes brown to my blue.

No wonder even I thought I was seeing myself on the gas station security footage. The resemblance is uncanny.

As he strides closer, I take in his build, so different than the thin, unintimidating brother I’d created in my mind. The real Holt is big. Big like me. I can imagine him spending his days at the hospital working to grow larger. I can imagine him doing pull-ups and push-ups and crunches and using his body weight to grow wider, stronger. I imagine him doing all that so that when this day came, when he faced me again, he’d be ready.

Well, I’m ready, too.

He looks at Molly. “Get away from her.”

I’m shocked that these are the first words from his mouth. It takes me a second to recover.

“Don’t come any closer,” I warn.

Holt produces a blade from behind his back. “What are you going to do, little brother? Beat me until I can’t see out of either eye? Kick me so that two of my ribs break? Hide in your room as Dad berates me because I’m not a shining star like his other son?”

“I’m not scared of you, Holt,” I say.

Holt takes three barreling steps forward, but Molly steps out from behind me and holds up her hand.

“Stop,” she says. “Just let us go, Holt. Please.”

“Molly,” he says. “I’m far from finished with you.”

It’s the way he says her name, like he really knows her.

I can’t bear it.

It reaches into my head and twists my brain into knots, and I have to silence his voice. I have to silence this person who drove me to madness these last nine years.

I charge him, slamming into him with every fear I’ve held since Molly vanished.

He flies backward, and his head hits a rock with a sickening crack. When he lifts up, he leaves blood splattered across the stone. He remembers the knife and raises it above his head.

“Holt, no!” Molly screams, and he hesitates just long enough for me to smash my forehead into his.

Molly takes off running.

Holt panics as she leaves and brings the knife down. I grab his wrist a second before he plunges it into my side, and we roll across the ground. He manages to get on top of me and drives the blade closer to my throat.

But this is not how this is ending.

I bring my elbow up fast and hard and hit him clean across the face. He rocks to the side, and I hit him a second time so that he gets off of me. I snatch the weapon by the blade, and he rips it backward, tearing open my skin.

I howl with pain and anticipate the blade sliding between my ribs. But when I straighten, I see Holt straining to hear something.

An engine.

A car.

Molly’s in the van.

Molly’s going to run!

I want to roar with triumph, but my brother starts running toward the van, yelling her name.

I race after him, clutching my hand, calling him a coward. Trying to goad him into fighting me instead of chasing after Molly.

We reach the clearing, and I see the van.

It’s facing Holt, and Molly is behind the steering wheel with a smile that looks more than a little deranged.

She points at Holt and then slams on the accelerator.

The van bolts forward, and though at first it seems Holt will run, in the end, he opens his arms wide.

“Do it,” I shout. “Don’t stop!”

Molly barrels closer to him, and I wonder what it will do to me to see my girlfriend kill my brother.

Holt keeps his eyes glued to Molly’s face and steps toward the vehicle. He’s actually walking into his own death.

Molly’s scream erupts from the open window as she jerks the wheel at the last moment and sends the van crashing into a tree instead of Holt. Steam rises from the engine, and Holt races toward the driver’s seat.

What the hell is happening here?

I cut off his path and barrel into him. He drops the knife, but instead of diving for it, he turns and races toward the water.

“Stay there,” I yell to Molly before running after Holt, leaving the knife behind.

“Holt!” I plunge into the woods, the moonlight cutting a path between the trees. As I grow closer to the lake, my footsteps slow. I realize I’m enjoying this. It’s therapeutic in a way that ten months of therapy never was. I didn’t need talk therapy. I didn’t need white pills in white cups. I needed this. The chase. The conquest.

The finality that would come when two brothers who’ve always hated each other collided at last.





NOW


I spot him hiding behind a boulder on the beach and stalk toward him.

“What are you doing back there, brother?” I ask. “Trying to skip rocks? I can show you how, but you’ll have to come closer.”