I stepped back as darkness spilled out.
I turned on my phone's flashlight. It wasn't a room behind the door—it was a stairway.
I stepped in. The door closed behind me with a heavy thud.
I wasn't scared. But I looked back once before heading down.
At the bottom was another door. I touched it, and it opened easily.
I stepped into a wide hallway—no lights, no doors. Just walls. And the way back behind me.
"Why build this?" I whispered. "No rooms, no windows. Just a blank hallway. Why do I feel like something's buried down here, waiting?"
"Because there is!" a voice echoed. "And it's your death!"
I spun around as someone lunged. I caught his wrist—he had a gun. He slammed me down, his hand tightening around my throat.
"Who are you?" he growled.
My phone had fallen, my face still shadowed. But I could see him. And I knew that voice.
"I guess it's in your nature—pointing a gun at your sister," I said, voice trembling.
"What? Zinnia?" he froze, then jumped back, lowering the gun.
A snap echoed, and the hallway lit up. Ahead stood a massive gate, sealed behind iron bars and strange locks. Small arches lined the walls.
He stared at me, stunned, two tears shimmering in his eyes.
I had waited years for this moment—to scream at him, to hit him, to ask why he stole our father.
But seeing his tears… something shifted.
I still wanted the truth, but not the one I had carried all this time. I wanted his truth. The one buried in his silence.
"I'm so glad to see you, Zinnia," he said, voice thick. A tear slid down his cheek.
"Did you know I was your sister?" I asked.
He nodded.
"Since when?" I stepped closer.
"Since I could understand words. Since I could speak or listen," he said. "From the moment I opened my eyes, they told me—you were my sister. And you knew it too."
That last part hit me like a wave. My knees gave out. He caught me as I fell, kneeling beside me.
I looked up at him, heart pounding. "Then why didn't you ever show up? Why did they all keep it from me? And why…" My voice cracked. "Why can't I remember if I knew?" I searched his face, desperate.
"But *you*—you knew everything. And still, you killed the person I loved most?"
"Why?" I whispered as tears slipped down my cheeks. "Why did you kill my dad?"
The strength I'd had moments ago faded with my voice..
"What?" he said, eyes widening like I'd accused him of something unthinkable. "No—I didn't kill him!" He shook his head hard.
"Then why did you run off? You had a gun in your hand. You were *there,* fighting with my dad!" I fired questions at him, one after another, breathless.
"I'll explain—if you let me," he said, stepping toward me.
I backed away.
"I didn't even know he was dead." He dragged a hand through his hair. He wore fingerless gloves, a strange gun at his belt, and leather pauldrons over his now much stronger frame—no longer the average build I remembered, but hardened, like someone who'd trained in hell.
"I swear, Zinnia—I didn't kill Uncle James!" he pleaded.
"How can you expect me to trust you? You showed up at my doorstep with a gun," I said through clenched teeth, still fighting back tears.
"I know it was wrong. I shouldn't have come—especially when he warned me not to." He reached for my hands, and I let him. "Please, just hear me out. Let me explain everything. Then you can decide for yourself."
Before I could answer, the bell rang. I stood up.
"I have to go."
"Zinnia, please," he called after me as I moved toward the door. "Please, I'll wait for you this evening."
I paused, looked back. I didn't nod or speak, but he read the answer in my eyes.
I had never missed a class in my life. But this time, I slipped away, heading upstairs and out without being seen.
When I reached the canteen, Cris was waiting by our usual table. She rushed over and wrapped me in a hug so tight it nearly took the breath out of me—but I didn't pull away. Maybe I needed it.
"I…" I began, trying to come up with something to say, but she cut me off.
"You don't need to explain. Don told me everything." She hugged me again.
"I'm sorry I couldn't be there," I said anyway.
"You were there when it mattered. You stayed with me when you needed someone, too." She looked straight into my eyes. "I didn't know you sleepwalk."
"What?" I stared at her. "I don't sleepwalk. I never have."
She gave me that soft look, like an adult humoring a child. Like she didn't believe me, but wasn't going to argue about it.
"Of course, you haven't," she said with a wide, clearly fake smile.
Before I could respond, I noticed Don. He looked distant and tense.
I knew he was worried about me, but after talking to Liam, I felt like things might finally start making sense. All day, my eyes kept drifting to the clock.
Even so, knowing Don cared that much lit something in me—a flicker I hadn't felt before. For the first time, I believed things might actually get better.
Evening came. I waited, staring at the clock. Then came a knock. I opened the door to find Cris standing there.
"We're going for a walk. Want to come?" she asked.
"I… I need a little time alone," I said.
"Is everything okay?" she asked, concern softening her voice.
"I just miss… Dad." I looked down.
She hugged me, rubbing my back.. "Do you want me to stay?"
I shook my head. "No. You need the break. Go have fun, please."
She hesitated but then nodded and left.
I wasn't lying. Since meeting my brother, memories of my dad kept crashing over me. I waited until Cris was gone, then slipped out quietly. As soon as I stepped inside, the lights snapped on—he was already waiting.
And somehow, I wasn't afraid. If he had lied, he'd be long gone. But he was still here.
His eyes lit up the moment he saw me.