Chapter 4

I blinked hard. It was Otto. "What happened? Where's Joey?"

I wanted to ask why he was back, when he'd returned. My stomach lurched. I barely made it to the trash can before I was sick, splattering Otto's sleeve.

"Sorry... sorry..." I kept muttering. My mind was a mess, and I just kept repeating those words over and over.

Otto frowned, said something about the hospital. He helped me up.

I refused on instinct. "No, I don't want to go to the hospital."

Joey had been pretending to have bum legs for five years, and he'd spent all that time getting treated at the hospital.

Most of the money I busted my ass to earn over those five years went straight to that private hospital's front desk.

I had no clue what kind of deal Joey had made with them, but they went along with his charade for five years straight.

I never wanted to set foot in that place again.

"Then my place," Otto said, leading me to his car.

A cold voice cut through the night. "Let go of her."

I forced myself to look up.

Joey stood a few yards away, his face like stone.

In the dim light, I could see a smudge of pale pink frosting on his cheek. Elisa's birthday cake. He'd left her party. Of course he was furious.

I looked away, said softly to Otto. "Let's go."

I opened the car door.

"Nina, stop!" Joey's voice, usually so controlled, cracked.

I ignored him and climbed straight into the car.

I got in, slammed the door. As it closed, I heard his voice, thick with hate. "You killed my parents. How can you sleep at night, Nina? You and Otto?"

My hand froze on the car door.

It was like a needle to the heart.

I had no idea why he had to bring Otto into this mess. Maybe he was just so pissed he'd totally lost it.

Through the window, I saw his furious, lonely figure.

The wind messed up his hair as he stood there by himself. He looked so damn alone.

My hands were trembling.

As soon as I closed my eyes, his face disappeared.

All I could see was darkness.

But in that darkness, I could see him again, as if he was really there.

Back then, after school, Joey would always hold my hand tight and walk me home.

The one who was the only constant in my blurry childhood memories of distant, disapproving parents.

When I was twelve, I overheard the housekeeper on the phone, sneering about how my mother had tried to abort me. She was anemic, but she still went to the hospital several times to get rid of me.

It was Christmas Eve. Our parents were abroad.

I always envied other kids who got to stay with their parents on that night.

So Joey kept me company. He took my hand, and said we were going up to the rooftop terrace to play.

As we walked past the kitchen, we overheard the nanny on the phone, her mocking tone using me as gossip fodder.

I was genuinely hurt after hearing what the nanny said about me.

I bit my lip, but I couldn't hold it back. A sob escaped me.

Fifteen-year-old Joey stormed in, snatched her phone, and smashed it. She went to slap him.

I jumped in front. All I felt was the sting on my cheek.

When I came to, the nanny was shrieking, clutching her arm as blood streamed through her fingers.

It splattered onto the pristine white tiles, the sight absolutely horrifying.

Joey stood right in front of her, his hand trembling around the kitchen knife, eyes burning red with fury.

I called his name a few times, my voice shaking, but he didn't move at all. He just stood there, frozen, as if turned to stone.

The next day, my parents rushed back from overseas, gave the nanny some hush money, and hauled me and Joey over to apologize.

Joey shoved me behind him, glared at the woman. "Talk about Nina like that again, and it'll be worse."

My dad, furious, slapped him hard across the face.

My mom was silent for a long moment before finally speaking up. "We should send Nina away. Let someone else have her."

I was so scared that my mind just went blank.

Ever since I was little, that fear of my parents was in my bones. I never tried to talk back to them.

Joey grabbed my wrist. "If she goes, I go."

My parents totally lost it. They threw a bank card at him and left the country that night.

After that, Joey fired the housekeeper. We didn't want another housekeeper.

With no adults left in the house, Joey started wearing an apron, making me eggs and toast every morning before we headed off to school together.

After school, he stopped meeting up with his buddies for gaming sessions and started going to the supermarket to buy groceries himself.

At night, he made sure every dish was something I loved, and we'd sit together by the window, just the two of us.

He'd raise his glass of juice, gently clink it against mine, then look at me, noticing my eyes were still puffy from crying.

His eyes were soft and gentle in the glow of the lamp. "Don't worry, I'm here."

Many years later, on that one snowy night, my parents got a sudden text from me and, without thinking, jumped in the car to come find me in the middle of a blizzard.

The roads were slick with ice, the world outside a blur, and then, just like that, they crashed.