Memories From a Dead Girl
Fifteen
"My...sister...wasn't...suicidal."
Chloe's words came out in a whisper, but they were full of rage, disgust and anger. Then, she reached through the bars, her fingers grasping his shirt tightly. She pressed his face into the bars, and Austin looked alarmed.
"Chloe, stop."
We spoke at the same time, the same words. When she released him, Austin staggered back, looking scared. He ran a hand through his hair and shook his head, then returned to his cot, closed his eyes, and breathed out a sigh.
"Did you know she told me once that she wanted to leave all of this behind, to leave you?" Austin said quietly. He drummed his fingers on his knee, captured by an invisible song in his head. "I told her that was stupid. You two are—were—sisters. Olive knew she couldn't leave you, there wasn't a chance in hell that she would survive."
Chloe wrapped her fingers around strands of her black hair, her eyes watching him carefully. "Were you jealous of my relationship with her?"
Austin opened his eyes and tilted his head. "I used to be. We fought about that, too, a few times." He reached up and rubbed his head, wincing. "They told me we fought the day she died, that I yelled at her, about you."
Chloe's eyes widened slightly.
"I don't remember," I said, even though neither of them could hear me. "All I remember is the knife, and Austin's face when it went in. He was terrified. Almost like he didn't do it." I narrowed my eyes, suddenly full of the worst anger I'd ever felt in my life—scratch that—in my death.
"I can prove I didn't do it," Austin said, standing. "They're going to give me a Polygraph test, Chloe. When I pass, you and I will find out what really happened."
Chloe's words came out in a whisper, but they were full of rage, disgust and anger. Then, she reached through the bars, her fingers grasping his shirt tightly. She pressed his face into the bars, and Austin looked alarmed.
"Chloe, stop."
We spoke at the same time, the same words. When she released him, Austin staggered back, looking scared. He ran a hand through his hair and shook his head, then returned to his cot, closed his eyes, and breathed out a sigh.
"Did you know she told me once that she wanted to leave all of this behind, to leave you?" Austin said quietly. He drummed his fingers on his knee, captured by an invisible song in his head. "I told her that was stupid. You two are—were—sisters. Olive knew she couldn't leave you, there wasn't a chance in hell that she would survive."
Chloe wrapped her fingers around strands of her black hair, her eyes watching him carefully. "Were you jealous of my relationship with her?"
Austin opened his eyes and tilted his head. "I used to be. We fought about that, too, a few times." He reached up and rubbed his head, wincing. "They told me we fought the day she died, that I yelled at her, about you."
Chloe's eyes widened slightly.
"I don't remember," I said, even though neither of them could hear me. "All I remember is the knife, and Austin's face when it went in. He was terrified. Almost like he didn't do it." I narrowed my eyes, suddenly full of the worst anger I'd ever felt in my life—scratch that—in my death.
"I can prove I didn't do it," Austin said, standing. "They're going to give me a Polygraph test, Chloe. When I pass, you and I will find out what really happened."