Chapter 5 - The Sister's Guilt
"Don't move, Marcus," a trembling voice whispered in the dark.
I didn't turn around. I recognized the voice immediately. Elena. My little sister.
"Put the gun down, El," I said, my voice dangerously calm. "You don't even know how to turn the safety off on that thing."
"Dad said you might come," she cried, the gun shaking so violently I could hear the metal rattling. "He said you went crazy. That you'd try to hurt us."
I slowly turned to face her. She looked terrible. Her eyes were sunken with heavy, dark bags, her hair a messy tangle. The guilt was eating her from the inside out. I shined my flashlight on my own face, showing her my hollow cheeks and the raw scars on my neck from the branches.
"Look at me, Elena," I demanded. "Does this look like I went crazy? Or does it look like I starved for a week trying to keep an eight-year-old boy from freezing to death?"
She sobbed, lowering the weapon slightly. "I didn't want to leave you! Dad made us! He said it was the only way to protect the family legacy. He said you were going to ruin everything."
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"Ruin what?" I stepped closer, snatching the heavy revolver out of her weak grip. "What the hell are you talking about, Elena? Why did he want us dead?"
She fell to her knees on the cold concrete. "It wasn't about you. It was about Sarah. It was always about Sarah’s money."
