Chapter 2

Finally, and with obvious annoyance, Marshall grabbed my arm.

"Let's go to the hospital," he muttered.

I let out a bitter laugh in my head. What was I to him? Nothing?

Why did I have to keep letting him and Dorothy hurt me over and over?

Once, Dorothy hogtied me with a rope, yanking my neck and ankles back until I strangled myself out of sheer exhaustion—all while she giggled with that disturbingly innocent laugh.

Another time, she tricked me into a tiny, dark room, where all I could hear was this creepy, endless humming.

I didn't realize until I was suffocating, crushed in the corner, that it was just a bouncy castle inflating.

I'd cried, screamed, and protested over and over, desperate to make Marshall see that Dorothy really wanted me dead.

But he always just brushed it off, acting like it was no big deal.

He'd say, "It's just a childish prank. Lighten up. It's not like she can really harm you.

"She's my sister. Can't you be a little more understanding?"

I shot back, "I'm five years younger than her. Why should I be understanding of her?"

Marshall just rolled his eyes. "Here you go again, overreacting."

Even when I was breaking down, even when I was completely drained, it never occurred to me that he knew all along.

He knew I'd be dying like this, over and over, in agony.

I just figured he treated Dorothy like a treasure, always coddling her and never doubting her.

Marshall urged me again, his patience clearly wearing thin.

He said, "Let's go to the hospital. Why are you just standing there?

"Do you want everyone to see you all messed up and start blaming Dora?

"You already ruined her plan, and now you want to make her look bad too?"

I didn't say a word, but he'd already vented his anger.

I wrenched my hand free from his grip and spun around, yanking the crossbow bolt out of the wedding flower wall.

The funny thing is, it was stuck right through the red heart between Marshall's name and mine.

The bloody tip glinted coldly as I shoved it right in Dorothy's face.

I snapped, "What the hell do you think you're doing at my wedding to your brother?"

Then I added, "If our marriage disturbs you, just say the word. I'll step aside. No need to go all psycho and try to take me out!"

Her face went from pale to red, and she shot back, but her voice was shaky.

She said, "We're just siblings. What the hell are you even implying?

"You're the one with a twisted mind. No wonder you twist everything.

"That thing couldn't hurt a fly. God, you're so paranoid. It's impossible to reason with you!"

I shoved the bloody arrow tip against her cheek, not backing down for a second.

"You think this thing can't hurt anyone? Let's test that theory," I spat, my voice as cold as ice.

But before I could do anything, Marshall lunged over and grabbed my wrist in a death grip.

His eyes blazed with a fury I'd never seen before, like he was ready to burn me alive.

Dorothy had used me as her personal guinea pig, testing out every twisted murder scheme she could dream up.

She had tied me to a windmill, sliced through the rope holding a chandelier right above my head, and even rigged a fishing line to trip me up whenever I rode my bike.

Even at her worst, the harshest Marshall ever got was to quietly tell her not to cause trouble.

Turns out, when someone loved you or didn't, it was painfully obvious.