Jennie

When I walk into the shop, it's once again empty. I'm tired and crabby, but mostly, I want to talk to Lisa. She's hunched over an old looking car as she tinkers with something under the hood. Now that she's not wearing her uniform shirt and leaving her with only sports bra, her back is on full display. The wife beater may as well be painted on her because it's stretched to the limit and molds perfectly against her flesh. Her shoulders are broad—beautifully curved, lean muscles.

"Hey," I greet as I approach her much like one would a wounded animal. Sometimes I see flickers of want in her eyes. Most times, I see hate.

She tenses and something clangs on the metal. After she sets a tool down, she grabs a rag and wipes at her hands before turning around. Her jaw is clenched and her glare is unwavering.

"What?"

I wince. "I…I loved that picture."

"Yeah? And I loved my sister, but you took that away from me." Her dark brow arches as she challenges me with one look.

"Want to know the story behind that picture?" My words are quiet, but she hears them. My words affect her. Her tight features relax and I can see the questions dancing in her eyes.

"Tell me."

"Ask nicely," I say back and cock my head to the side.

She tosses the rag to the floor and cracks her neck. The wild look in her green eyes promises violence and fury and madness. And yet I stay rooted in my spot, waiting for her to attack. With long, purposeful strides, she stalks my way. I almost stumble away but hold my ground at the last minute. Her chest bumps against me. I inhale her scent—grease with a mix of her cologne. It does things to my insides.

"Tell me, sheep."

I tilt my head up to find her eyes darting all over me, as if she'll find the answers on my flesh. Our mouths are just inches apart and I wish she'd kiss me again. When her gaze falls to my lips, I lick them. A growl rumbles in her throat, vibrating its way straight to my core.

Her hand grips my jaw, but I refuse to run from her.

"Ask nicely," I murmur.

She runs her thumb along my jaw near my ear, sending shivers rippling through me. "Please."

Her eyes widen at her plea and I gape at her.

"Okay," I whisper. "Can we go somewhere?"

She gives me a clipped nod. "Wash up. I know a place."

"You'd think I'd get tired of the burgers from Hamby's, but I could eat them every day," I chirp as I devour the rest of my food. My mouth has been rambling since the moment we picked up food and headed to her destination. I'm not even sure if she's listening to me. "If Jisoo knew I ate carbs, she'd have a shit fit."

"She controlled your diet too, sheep?"

Okay, so she is listening.

I chance a look at her. Her eyes are ahead on the road as she drives her loud car. "Well, being cheer captain, it was her duty to make sure we ate healthy and kept in shape." The words, now, though, sound lame.

"She controlled you and everyone else because she liked it. Don't bullshit yourself," she utters with a disgusted shake to her head.

"She was a bitch," I agree with a dark laugh.

Her lips twitch and for a second I think she might smile. "I'm pretty sure she's still a bitch."

I'm nodding in agreement as she parks her car beside a picnic table. Lake Borden. I haven't been here since I was a kid. Dad used to take Mom and me here. Once he passed away, she said the lake was too dirty and we never came back.

"Come on," she orders.

I climb out and follow her down a pathway. Tonight, the air is chilly, warning of an early fall, and I shiver. Once we make it to the shore on a soft grassy area, Lisa sits down and stares out at the lake. I kneel down beside her but face her side so I can see her better. In the moonlight, she's more pretty handsome than ever. Her raven on her neck moves slowly as the vein beneath it pulsates.

"Lisa…" I murmur. "I'm sorry. I never meant—"

She jerks her head my way and snarls at me. "The story. Not this."

I flinch but nod quickly. "Okay. Umm…"

As she glares, I let my mind slip back to that moment.

PoetPrincess99: That is not your favorite movie. You're ridiculous.

I laugh and push pause on said movie so I don't miss the good parts.

LonelyLogan69: It is my favorite movie. Have you even seen it? How can you dis something you've never even seen?

PoetPrincess99: It's a kid movie.

LonelyLogan69: I watched it last year when I was seventeen. A kid. Does that count? LOL. But all kidding aside, it's a really good story. Watch it and tell me you hate it. I dare you.

She disappears for a while and I wake up in the middle of the night to my phone buzzing.

PoetPrincess99: You asshole!

I giggle in the darkness as I reply.

LonelyLogan69: What? Why?

PoetPrincess99: I almost cried.

LonelyLogan69: Your heart is dead and cold. That movie made me bawl the first time I saw it.

And it's true. Maleficent was sweet but also sad.

PoetPrincess99: Sometimes you're more of a girl than me.

LonelyLogan69: You liked it, though. Admit it.

A photo comes through and she's smiling. I love her smiles. Her real ones. I'm addicted to them. She's sent me so many of them now, I've lost count. No, that's a lie. I have twenty-seven pictures of her smiling. Twenty-eight now.

PoetPrincess99: I loved it. It was beautiful.

LonelyLogan69: So are you.

"This is so fucked up," Lisa bellows, startling me from my retelling of that night.

I flinch and frown at her. "Which part?"

"You. Her. All of it. I don't fucking understand!" She launches to her feet and stomps through the grass away from me back toward the car. I scramble after her. Before she reaches the car door, I grab at the back of her shirt. She swivels around and grips me by my shoulders. I'm backed into the side of the car and the metal presses into my ass as her hands slide down.

"You wanted to know the story. That's the story," I say gently, searching her face, hoping to make eye contact.

She tilts her head up to the sky and her throat bobs when she swallows. I want to comfort her, but she has my biceps locked in her grip. Wiggling from her hold, I manage to wrap my arms around her solid middle. She tenses but doesn't push me away. I'm forcing a hug on her and she hasn't rejected me yet. I press my cheek to her chest and let out a small sigh.

"Can you tell me one?"

"You don't deserve to hear it," she snaps, but she's still not moving away. When her fingers absently stroke through my hair, I close my eyes and inhale her.

"Will you tell me anyway?"

Her chin rests on the top of my head and she lets out a ragged sigh. "When we were in the eighth grade, our mom died."

I squeeze her harder. "I'm sorry."

"Stop saying that," she grumbles. "It doesn't change anything. It's just fucking annoying."

My lips part to repeat those same words and I quickly snap my mouth shut.

She lets out another sigh. "I'd lost my head a bit. Cried all the damn time. Started fights with my dad because getting the shit kicked out of me felt better than having my heart ripped to shreds."

Tears pool in my eyes because I understand the heartache of losing a parent.

"One day, as I lay curled up on the kitchen floor nursing a bloody nose my dad gave me, Rosé walked in and sat down next to me. She was always so fucking happy. Smiles and warmth and positivity. Motherfucking sunshine. I was this…I was this dark storm." She pauses and her body grows tense. "She wrote me a poem."

My lips curl into a smile. A real one. "Her poems are the best."

"Walls. Shadows. Words," she recites from memory. "You can hide behind them. But I'll find you. Peekaboo." She grips my hair and tilts my head back until I'm staring into her pained eyes. "I see you. I see you. I see you." Her brows furrow together. "I told her it wasn't a poem because it didn't rhyme."

"Did you know poems don't have to rhyme?" I ask, my voice shaking with emotion.

She smiles—broad and beautiful and utterly perfect. "That's what she said too."

I grin because I love how into her poetry Rosé was. Every single one she told me, I cherished and memorized. Just like Lisa did. Rosé had that effect on people. I wish I'd seen it sooner.

Her smile falls and for a moment, she seems so young. Not hard or angry or a total mystery to me. For one moment, she's soft. And then her lips are on mine again as if they belong there. Her tongue pushes past my lips, demanding entrance, and I accept her. I taste and suck and try to swallow her whole.

We kiss for God knows how long.

I lose sense of time and reality.

I simply melt in her strong arms.

My hands are greedy to touch every part of her. I decide I want to touch her bare skin and run my fingertips along her biceps to her forearms. When I touch them, we both freeze. Time stands still.

"Coping mechanism," she grits out as she pulls away.

I want to grab her wrists and yank her back to me, but she's already climbing into the car. The engine fires up, startling me. I've barely gotten into the car before she's peeling out of the spot and barreling down the road.

Frowning, I sink into my seat and wonder why she has scars on her arms. I want to ask her what made her do it that first time. Was it after Rosé died? My mind whirs with questions, but I don't dare ask them. Her jaw is clenched hard and her focus is on the road. I fidget in my seat. My heart begs me to reach over and take her hand, but I know she won't allow it. Too quickly, we arrive in front of my house.

"How did you know where I lived? You showed up the other day and broke in. I never told you," I say, my voice cautious.

She reaches over and pulls my purse from the floorboard. As if it belongs to her, she rifles through it, ignoring me. After some time, she finds my phone and starts tapping away on it. Then she throws it back in my bag.

"Get out of my car, sheep."

I glare at her for a long minute. She smirks. Fucker. "Whatever," I grumble.

Before I've even made it in my house, she peels off down the road. I'm still staring after her taillights when my phone buzzes in my purse.

Unknown Number: I know everything about you.

I save her name to my phone and shake my head as I reply.

Me: Not everything.

Lisa: You have more pictures, don't you?

I mute the television and sit up to respond. I hadn't heard from her in a couple of days until now.

Me: If I did have them, would you take those too?

Lisa: Yes.

Me: Then no. I don't.

She doesn't reply and I let out a heavy sigh. Just when I start to doze off, she responds.

Lisa: When did you grow a backbone, sheep?

I scowl and hold up my middle finger before taking a selfie. After I shoot it off to her, I reply back.

Me: Since now.

My phone rings and I jump. Shit. She's calling me. Before I wuss out, I swipe it to accept the call.

"Hello?"

"You look like shit, sheep."

I frown because I know I do. After a double shift at Hamby's, I'm exhausted and barely had the energy to shower. My hair dried wild and I don't have any makeup on.

"Thanks," I utter, my tone dry.

She chuckles, deep and throaty, and it shocks me. "When are you coming back to the shop? You haven't showed in days."

I could almost cry at the thought of having to go back. I bust my ass at the diner most days and then my free days, I work on inventory at her shop. It's starting to take its toll on me physically.

"Tomorrow," I say with an exhausted sigh.

She's silent for a moment and all I can hear is her breathing. "I don't like you. You have pictures—pictures I haven't seen." A sigh escapes her. "That day was too intense. I never had an opportunity to see them all before the cops confiscated her phone for evidence. They didn't share them all at the trial." A dark, humorless laugh rumbles through the line. "I did see the ones of you fucking that old man." I wince at the reminder. "The only reason I'm talking to you is because you have pictures and information I'd like to know about my sister."

Is that why you kissed me too?

I bite back that question. "I see." I'd never admit it to her, but my feelings are hurt. The way she kissed me at the lake was intense. I want more of it.

"What happened between us…" Her voice trails off. "It won't happen again."

I don't want to talk about the fact that we kissed and our chemistry was through the roof, but now she's brushing it aside like it meant nothing. "Why didn't you sit with your sister at school?"

"That's none of your damn business," She snaps.

I'm braver without her right in front of me, so I continue to probe. "It was weird. You sat in the lunchroom glaring at everyone. Rosé sat outside under the tree as if she didn't have a worry in the world. Twins are supposed to be attuned to each other. Why did you abandon her?"

"Fuck you, sheep."

She disconnects the call and I feel sick to my stomach. Quickly I text her.

Me: Why? Tell me.

Lisa: BECAUSE I DIDN'T WANT TO BRING HER DOWN WITH ME. Happy now?

No. Not at all.

Me: You seemed fine to me aside from all the hateful looks.

Lisa: Did you feel fine when your dad died?

My heart clenches and I shake my head even though he can't see it.

Me: No. I wasn't.

Lisa: I wasn't fine either after Mom died. My moods would drag Rosé down. She was too happy and undeserving of my darkness. It was the only way to protect her.

Me: So you threw her to the wolves?

Lisa: Sheep. You were all sheep. She was safe.

I dial her number and can't hold my tears in. As soon as she answers, I shout at her. "She wasn't safe! You gave her no one! People laughed and made fun of her! People like me took advantage of her! Where the fuck were you?"

"You think you know everything, goddammit. You don't know shit," She sneers. "I'm not the monster here. You are. So fuck you and the horse you rode in on."

She hangs up on me again. My chest hurts. This is the real punishment. I'd thought the small jail sentence and community service was bad. I'd thought losing my option to go to college was horrible. But this is where I atone for my sins. I'm forced to like a girl who hates me. A girl who reminds me every day that I'm the one who pushed her sister to suicide. She's never coming back. I did this.

Climbing off my bed, I go into my closet where I have a fireproof safe. The day I'd learned Rosé had killed herself, before the cops showed up at my door, I'd backed up my phone. All the pictures I had of Rosé were safely stored. Sure, the police confiscated my phone, but I had copies of everything they took. It kept me sane all these months—being able to see her. I had them all printed and keep them in a safe for moments when I need to feel her connection. Once I open the safe, I rummage through the pictures and find the one I'm looking for. I hold it up and snap a photo before sending it to Lisa.

Me: I know this picture right here was after your dad had just knocked you around. Rosé was upset about it and wanted to talk to someone. She'd wanted to see how you were doing, but you slammed your door and hid from her. I know more than you think. And if you want me to tell you more, then I suggest you start treating me like a fucking human.

I don't wait for a response and shut off my phone. I spend the rest of the night curled up on the floor of my closet looking through her pictures and crying.