The golden glow of the welcome-home party felt hollow to Annie as she navigated the stairs with Ethan's help. The air in the hallway seemed thick with the echoes of Margaret's voice, a chilling residue that no amount of Kia's scented candles could mask.
Once Ethan settled her into her room, he lingered for a moment, his eyes scanning the space as if checking for hidden threats.
"You're sure you're okay?" he asked, his voice low. "You've been quiet since we walked through the door."
"I'm just tired, Ethan. Truly," she lied softly. She needed him to leave so she could process the jagged shards of memory piercing her brain.
He didn't look convinced, but he nodded, leaning in to press a brief, lingering kiss to her forehead. "I'll be right across the way. My window is open. Just call, and I'm here."
As the door clicked shut, Annie sat on the edge of her bed, the silence of her room feeling less like a reprieve and more like an interrogation. She didn't have to wait long. A hesitant, heavy knock sounded against the wood- too heavy to be her father, too uncertain to be Ethan.
"Come in," Annie said.
Kyson pushed the door open. He looked out of place in her room, his broad shoulders hunched as if he were trying to make himself smaller. He didn't move toward her, he stayed by the door, his hands shoved deep into his pockets.
"Annie," he started, his voice rougher than usual. He looked at her, and the guilt she had seen downstairs was now raw and bleeding in his eyes. "I... I needed to say it. To your face."
Annie watched him, her heart thudding. "Say what, Kyson?"
"I'm sorry," he whispered, the words sounding like they were being torn out of him. "For all of it. For the years I spent being a prick because it was easier than standing up to her. For the things I let her say about you, and your mom. I knew she was bitter, Annie. I knew she was jealous of what Dylan had with Lilah. But I didn't..." He choked on his words, his jaw working. "I didn't know the full extent of the hatred. I didn't know she was capable of being that... monstrous."
He finally looked up, and for the first time, Annie didn't see the "pissed off" step-brother. She saw a boy who had been pruned and shaped by a master of manipulation.
"She nailed those insecurities into me since I was a kid," Kyson continued, his voice shaking. "She controlled every thought I had, told me I had to be the 'strong' one, the 'stable' one, while you were the 'mess.' She made me believe that protecting the family meant protecting her secrets. But seeing you in that bed for ten weeks... seeing what she was willing to do to keep her claws in this house..."
He let out a sharp, jagged breath, his eyes hardening with a sudden, visceral clarity. "I hate her, Annie. I hate her for what she turned me into. I hope to god I never see her face again as long as I live. She's not my mother. She's just a ghost I'm trying to stop haunting."
Annie felt a strange wave of pity wash over her. The memory of Margaret telling Kyson he belonged where she told him to belong felt sickeningly real.
"Kyson... where is she? Where is Margaret now?"
The room went deathly still. Kyson's face went pale, and he looked away, his eyes darting toward the window. He opened his mouth to speak, but the words died in his throat. He couldn't tell her. He couldn't tell her that Margaret was currently the center of a criminal investigation, or that she had been removed from the house in handcuffs while Annie was still dreaming in a coma. To tell her that would be to rip the veil off the "accident"- to tell her that her stepmother was the reason she almost died. That was information Ethan had begged him to keep quiet until Annie was stronger.
"I can't... I can't tell you that yet, Annie," Kyson said, his voice barely a whisper. "Just know she's gone. She's not coming back here."
Across the narrow alleyway, Ethan stood in the darkness of his own bedroom, the lights extinguished so he wouldn't be seen. He was leaning against the window frame, his arms crossed, his gaze fixed on the golden square of Annie's window.
He could see their silhouettes- Annie sitting on the bed, Kyson standing like a broken pillar by the door. Ethan's jaw was set tight. He had spent the last few weeks working with Kyson, stripping away the layers of Margaret's lies to get to the truth of the night on the bridge. He trusted Kyson now- he knew the boy was just as much a victim of Margaret's psychological warfare as anyone, but that didn't stop the protective instinct from roaring in his chest.
He didn't know what Kyson was saying, but he saw Annie flinch. He saw her shoulders shake. His hand gripped the windowsill, the wood groaning under the pressure. He was ready to vault over the ledge at a moment's notice. He knew Kyson was apologizing, but he also knew that the truth was a poison, and he didn't know if Annie's heart was strong enough to survive the dosage Kyson was giving her.
He watched as Kyson finally took a step toward the bed, reaching out as if to touch her hand before pulling back at the last second.
Ethan breathed out, a cloud of mist hitting the cool glass. Be careful with her, Kyson, he thought, his eyes narrowing. She's just found her footing. Don't pull the floor out from under her.
Back in the room, Annie looked up at her step-brother. She saw the fear in his eyes- the fear that she would never forgive him.
"Thank you for telling me, Kyson," she said softly. "I think... I think we both have a lot of things to forget about her."
Kyson nodded, a single, jerky movement. He turned and walked out, leaving Annie alone in the quiet house. She turned toward the window, catching a glimpse of a shadow across the way. She knew it was Ethan. She knew he was watching. And for the first time that night, the house didn't feel like Margaret's. It felt like hers again.