Mia and I were one in the same, aside from the fact she was able to obliterate the anger inside just by her presence.
I’ll be back, Mia.
We said our goodbyes, and as I walked away, she grabbed my hand.
By the single touch of her hand, I froze. The monster froze. I’d never been so nervous, and I found the will to turn to face her.
“I’m sorry about your sister, Ethan. She would be so proud of you,” Mia said, and squeezed my hand. That was all it took for me to know I had to see my plans through.
For Livy. For Mia. For justice.
“Why don’t you want her to know?” I asked Lynch back at his office. I leaned back in the chair and rested my elbows over the armrests, bringing my pointer fingers to my mouth. Lynch absentmindedly rolled a pen between his palms in deep thought, wondering which version he wanted to spit my way.
Try me, Lynch. I may have been a horrible brother, but I was a walking lie detector.
“She’s smart,” he finally said. Truth. “She will use it against me during her time here. I’ll tell her, but not until her last day. It has to be her choice in whether or not she wants to accept it. It has to be because I’m not the dean of the school she’s attending, but because she honestly wants to be a part in my life.”
I sat back in the chair and scratched my jaw. “How long have you known?” I asked and held my arms out to the side. “That she is your daughter. How long?” Where were you while her uncle was raping her? Where were you when her mother took her life? Where were you the last nineteen years of her life? What was your fucking excuse? Was it the same as mine?
“Eight months,” Lynch scoffed. “Bruce, her father, reached out to me about eight months ago. Told me what happened with her mum, laid a shit storm on me, and confessed I had a daughter. He said Mia needed help. I didn’t believe him at first, but then he sent me the original birth certificate. When she first arrived, I had her blood drawn.” He tossed the pen over the desk. “She’s mine, Ethan. That little girl in there?” he pointed up, where Mia laid above us, “She’s my daughter. You’re the only one I trust to protect her. Lord knows Livy had gone through hell and back, and I’m sorry for what happened to Livy. I know I should’ve checked up on you after she died. I should have been there for you. But I failed and I was scared to face my failures. I can’t have the same thing happen to Mia that happened to your sister. If anyone understands, it’s you. You’re the only one who can do this job. I need you to keep an eye on her. Watch her every move.”
Lynch was desperate, but so was I.
“I’ll do it.” I would watch over Mia, do what I couldn’t do for Livy. I’ll make sure nothing ever happened to her, but in the meantime, I’d also raise hell in this fucking institution and eliminate the bastards who gang-raped and murdered my little sister.
The police had said it was suicide by hanging. Deep down, I knew the truth. Livy would’ve never left Tommy behind or take the life of their baby. Livy would have never left me behind.
But those were all assumptions.
The cold hard truth? I’d been the first one at the scene. The facts had screamed at me from the door of her dorm. Livy didn’t have the height nor strength to have carried out the suicide. It had taken Livy until the age of eight to learn to tie her shoe. I hardly believed she configured a noose in the form of a bedsheet.
The cold hard truth? I’d spent months investigating her case, reading the reports, studying her last months, visited Tommy. They didn’t bother testing the skin under her nails for DNA. They didn’t bother interrogating the students. And they never bothered to report the bruises or evidence of foul play that painted over her body.
They didn’t fucking care.
Suicide was much easier to jot down. Investigating the truth was harder. Shit, people wanted easy. They wanted a closed case and to go home to their families.
Crazy how one lie on a death certificate could haunt a soul daily, on top of the last memory I had of her. The memory of saying goodbye to her cold, lifeless body at the morgue. I would never forget the way her forehead felt beneath my kiss.
That chill ran through me ever since.
The cold hard truth was, if I wanted something done, I had to do it myself. It was time Livy’s murderers were punished, and thanks to Tommy, one of them had been taken care of. But it was up to me to take out the last four blokes under the same fate they’d given my sister.
One by fucking one.
And what if we all stop and listen? I refuse to measure suicide with numbers, statistics, and percentages, because at the end of the day, it only takes one to disrupt the entire world.
You can erase this stigma by how you respond to this tragic death. For more information, please visit: https://save.org
National Suicide Prevention Lifeline: 1-800-273-8255 (TALK)
Crises Textline: Text HOME to 741-741
acknowledgements
HOLY FUCKING SHIT.
My second publication.
I’m still reeling.
Give me a moment.
… Exhales …
Okay, here we go.
I can’t start off my acknowledgements without thanking the readers first. Whether you found my books through social media, word of mouth, recommendations, or me reaching out to you, the time you’ve taken to read, review, share, and so much more, YOU ARE THE ONES WHO BRING THIS STORY TO LIFE. And with that, I can’t thank you enough.
Thank you to the ARC ARMY and LOVELIES, you ladies are incredible. I am in awe of all that you do. It’s amazing to a see a community of strong and passionate people from around the world sharing the same love for reading, come together by a single story. Though I’m still trying to figure out the whole social media thing, I see your messages, creations, and words, and it warms my heart of how accepting you are. And not just to me, but to each other. I literally could go on …
A never ending thanks to Annie Bugeja. You have made book two what it is, between beta reading, proofreading, and being an ear during my emotional meltdowns, I don’t know if I could have done this one without you. Actually, I probably could have, but it would have been a huge pile of lsakjflskjfd. Thank you for loving these characters. Though we met not that long ago, I’d felt like I’ve known you my whole life. Is it possible to owe SWM a solid for meeting you? Would that mean I owe myself one? I’ll take full credit! You are my WE. I love you dickwad. **insert middle finger emoji**
To K. Dosal McLendon. My Kassy. My life support. It’s crazy, really, how far we’ve come already. Endless thank you for everything. You knew how hard that epilogue was for me to write. You noticed a change in my writing almost immediately. Thank you for letting me cry it out, for reminding me why I started this story, for always being there, and understanding my vision. I love you!
A huge thank you to Ally Dublin with Wasted Life Books. Damn, woman. You are the mom of PA’s. Thank you for your constant reminders, keeping me on track and in line, and pushing me every single day. I think you’ve realized by now, I’m not like the rest of them. Thank you for accepting me with open arms.
Thank you to my Michelle (Mishie) Montes, Faith Flores, Lisa Bardonski, and Lym Cruz for your time and effort put into beta reading EWIG.