Page 1 of Make You Beg

PROLOGUE

KAYDEN - ONE YEAR AGO - 16 YEARS OLD

My brother’s corpse was dancing in flames.

I can’t imagine what he felt as his skin darkened, turning the color of charcoal, as he rushed from one corner of the room to the other, trapped in a nightmare with nowhere to go.

I can’t recall exactly how it happened, how the fire broke out. It happened so fast.

But I do know it’s my fault.

I watched, paralyzed—no—captivated, as he and his new girlfriend fought for their lives.

Help us, Kayden.

The door was blocked. There was no way to save them. I may be a bit bigger than he was, with my wide arms and muscles from all the hockey practice, but I don’t have superpowers.

I’m not a hero at all.

The dead look in his blue eyes as he fell to the ground will be an image that haunts me forever—his body spasming, his black hair, messy and slick, lighting up like candles.

I watched myself die, his image the split one of mine.

Twins. They say twins feel everything the other feels—but I didn’t feel anything at all.

Now, my posture is composed, with fists clenched at my sides, as I stand by the house where I’ve lived for the past few years, watching it blaze. My life, as I know it, is about to take a new direction.

Am I a psycho for standing here, calm as it all vanishes into ashes? The flames soothing my heavy heart?

It’s the second time this has happened. Not in the same way, the accidents are different. Yet, my brother isn’t the first one we’ve lost. When I was ten, it was my mom.

I never got to say goodbye. I was at school when her body was taken away.

My family’s cursed. There’s no other explanation.

I hold back the whimper dying to escape my throat. My chest churns with overflowing emotions, wanting to burst like lava from a volcano. It’s not sadness caught inside me, it’s frustration.

I’m mad—was mad—at him, when he got caught in the fire. And part of me is relieved he’s gone.

We don’t have to compete anymore.

What a fucking horrible human being I am. Sick. Fucking sick.

Who watches their own family being carried away in a body bag and channels thoughts like these?

Fucking relief? There’s something wrong with my brain.

I always thought I’d feel different, stronger about death. This hollow inside catches me by surprise.

My lack of emotion and pain.

It’s as if it were me there in the middle of that fire, but at the same time, it wasn’t. I was a mere spectator, watching it unfold.

The sirens from the ambulances in the background cause my mind to spiral. I want to run, escape this place, this moment.

I shake my head and ignore my surroundings. Pretend none of it happened.

Which is exactly what my dad will tell me to do. Of that, I’m sure.