Chapter 4

Hearing that, even Jenna, usually so good at pretending, couldn't hide the glee on her face.

But I had just clawed my life back from hell. I no longer cared about money.

Dragging my battered body, I turned and left. Every part of me felt like it was coming apart.

Back in my room, I took a shower.

When I stood before the mirror and saw the scars scattered all over my body, my nose stung.

Anger and grief surged up together, and the tears finally came.

These wounds were nothing. I had long since gone numb to my parents' words.

But I missed Claire.

My heart ached for everything she'd been put through.

Before she died, she had clutched my hand and still tried to wipe the tears from my face.

She had told me to be good, to not hate anyone for her sake.

"Clara, I'm finally free now."

There were still traces of my sister in this house.

I lay on her bed and wrapped myself tightly in her blanket.

A bed this simple had once been something my sister and I didn't even dare dream of.

Two days later, the door opened from the outside.

At that moment, I was sitting by the window with Claire's urn in my arms.

Before Jenna came into our lives, my sister and I used to pass the slow afternoons exactly like this.

"We're giving you a chance to apologize.

"Call Claire right now. As long as she comes back and admits her mistakes, we won't hold the rest against you."

I turned to look at them, my heart feeling as if it were being carved open.

My sister was right here in my arms.

How was I supposed to call her back?

Jenna spoke up. "Clara, I begged Uncle Gerald and Aunt Diane for a long time before they finally calmed down.

"Uncle Gerald has high blood pressure. Stop making them angry."

I pulled my lips into a mocking smile.

"You really know how to look after people. No wonder my parents love you so much."

My father's voice rose at once.

"Don't push your luck!"

Jenna let out a small, innocent sound and pointed at my sister's self-portrait on the wall.

"I'm so envious that you two were this close. Are you missing her because you're looking at her things? If so, why not just call her home?

"She still won't come back. Could it be that she's out there..."

She deliberately trailed off, leaving endless room for filthy speculation.

I shot to my feet, rage bursting through my chest.

That mouth of hers never stopped spewing poison.

I strode over and slapped her hard across the face.

Jenna dropped to the floor.

"Clara Voight!"

My father jabbed a finger at me and shouted, "Do you really think I'll keep tolerating you?"

I shouted back just as loudly, "I've already nearly died at your hands more than once!

"Didn't you want Claire back? Fine."

I turned, picked up the urn, and shoved it into his arms.

"Claire is dead. The traffickers tortured her to death!"