Page 77 of My Twin Sister

He grunts.

“That’s a good place to start. Let’s talk about the people you’ve hurt. The people you’ve killed.”

“I’ve never killed anyone. You’ve lost your damn mind.”

I pull up a chair and sit across from him, trying to keep my anger in check. “Well now you’re just lying. You tried to have me killed, remember?”

“You have no proof of that. And I didn’t lay a hand on you.”

“Your hands were all over me!”

He flinches at my sudden outburst. I close my eyes and take a breath.

“Is that what this is about?” he asks.

I open my eyes. “This is about a lot of things. That being one of them, yes.”

I have only one light on in the living room, and it illuminates into the kitchen pretty well. I made sure all the blinds were closed too, but I still feel paranoid that someone is watching us.

“Why don’t you start by telling me what you think I’ve done,” Frank says.

What a great suggestion. I start counting on my fingers.

“You abused me. Tried to have me killed. Covered up my disappearance. Abused several other girls. Killed Morgan and covered it up.” I switch to my other hand and continue. “Killed Brooke to shut her up. Framed my dad with your filth. And killed him, making it look like a suicide.”

Frank laughs. “You really have lost your mind.”

I stand up and take a step toward him. He lifts his head to keep eye contact with me. I slap him hard across the face. His head whips to the side. My palm stings, but it feels good. I’m tired of his lies and the stupid smug look on his face.

I’m the one in control here and he needed a reminder of that.

He looks back up and there’s a small trace of blood at the corner of his mouth. His smirk is gone. He spits at my feet, and I move my shoe out of the way just in time.

“I don’t know where you got these insane ideas from, but you’re wrong. You think you have things figured out, but you don’t know half of what you think you know.”

“I know you’re a liar,” I say. “Everything points back to you, Frank. You and your penchant for younger girls. That’s what it all comes back to, doesn’t it?”

“You and I had a relationship,” he says. His voice is lower than it has been, likely afraid Tina will hear if she’s woken up. “Don’t try to make yourself a victim of something you’re not.”

The metal of the gun in my waistband burns my skin. My hands itch to grab it and shoot him in the kneecap. I want to hurt him. Make him scream in pain. Gone are my hesitations and doubts. The more he talks, the more I feel ready to pull the trigger.

“Was Morgan the first girl you got rid of?” I ask.

“I had nothing to do with Morgan O’Neil’s death. Or her sister’s.”

“Right, right. And what about my dad? Why’d you put your pictures on his computer and then turn him in?”

“They weren’t my pictures.”

I hit him again. Closed hand this time. He breathes hard and glares at me. I ignore the pain in my hand and turn to my backpack in the corner of the kitchen.

“That’s funny,” I say. “So then why were these in a box beneath your bed? You kept them close by, didn’t you?”

I hold the box of photos out for him to see, and his face drains of color. That’s what I thought.

“How did you get those?”

“That’s not important. What’s important is that you’re a liar. Like I said earlier. So tell me why you did it.”