Daniel
I closed the door behind me.
Softly.
As if the noise could betray the fact that my brain had literally just exploded.
I stayed still for a few seconds, my hand still resting on the handle.
Breathe.
Everything's fine.
Well, no.
Nothing is fine.
I let out a breath and dropped onto my bed.
The ceiling stared at me.
I stared back.
Very productive.
"Something tried to hurt her."
The sentence kept replaying in my head.
Tried.
So it wasn't over.
Great.
Fantastic.
I ran a hand over my face.
Okay.
Let's recap.
My sister almost dies.
My mother lies to us.
She brought in two strangers.
Will and Gabriel.
And they know things.
Gabriel knows even more things.
And me? I get politely told to get lost.
Perfect plan.
Really.
But that was before.
I sat up abruptly.
They could leave me out before.
Not anymore.
I shoved my hand into my pocket.
The vial caught the light of the setting sun.
Pale yellow.
Almost pretty.
If you ignored the whole injected-into-your-sister-while-she-was-convulsing part.
I rolled it between my fingers.
Verbena.
I knew that smell.
Subtle.
Bitter.
Mom probably thought I didn't pay attention when she talked about work.
But I listened.
Always.
That stuff wasn't supposed to calm convulsions.
And definitely not be injected like that.
So why use it?
And why lie?
I clenched my jaw.
Because the truth was worse.
That's why.
I got up and started pacing.
Classic.
Very dramatic.
If anyone saw me right now, they'd probably add tense music in the background.
I stopped dead.
Wait.
I was forgetting something.
I walked over to my desk and pulled out what I had taken—or technically, stolen—the day before.
The keys.
I placed the two metal objects on the desk.
Then I added the vial beside them.
Lined up.
Like evidence.
Like staring at them hard enough would force the answers to appear.
Silence.
The kind of silence that makes you think.
Or regret.
I planted my hands on the desk.
I wanted answers.
But where was I even supposed to start?
That was the real mystery.
The keys.
I already knew one thing.
After a slightly disastrous experiment that morning—thanks to the dusty junk in the attic—I'd discovered they weren't magnetic.
Yeah.
It wasn't much.
But it was a start.
I spun one of them between my fingers.
And then—
I frowned.
The surface wasn't cold.
Not really.
Metal should've been.
But this one held a strange warmth.
Like it had been sitting in the sun.
Except it hadn't.
I turned the key over.
A tiny symbol was engraved near the bow.
I hadn't even noticed it before.
A circle.
Something tiny was carved inside it, hard to make out, but it looked… older somehow.
Great.
Potential magical mystery, I thought mockingly.
Perfect.
And despite myself, I thought about Avery.
Of course.
Avery always saw things before everyone else.
It was annoying.
And impressive.
Mostly impressive.
She was always one step ahead.
Always.
Avery, the brilliant one.
Avery, the girl everyone used as an example.
Avery, the one who always came first.
I let out a humorless laugh.
I'd spent a good part of my life trying to catch up to her.
Then trying to surpass her.
And in the end…
I burned myself out.
Because when you try to shine brighter than the person you idolize, you usually end up consuming yourself instead.
And that was exactly what happened to me.
Trying so hard to outdo my sister, I ended up disappointing the only person I wanted to impress.
My father.
The memory came back without warning.
The kitchen.
The evening light.
Avery bent over her homework, focused like a scientist about to discover a new continent.
And me.
Slouched across the table.
Notebook open.
Blank.
My father had looked at me.
Not angry.
Not really.
Just… tired.
"Daniel."
I'd straightened up a little.
"You could be brilliant if you focused a little more."
Not a criticism.
Not really.
But back then, I'd taken it like a verdict.
Like I was just Avery's failed rough draft.
So I'd done what I did best.
I smiled.
Shrugged.
And gave up.
The role of the screw-up became mine.
The less people expect from you…
The less you can disappoint them.
Simple.
Efficient.
Pathetic.
Looking back, I think my father was only trying to push me.
He knew.
He'd always known I could do better.
But I heard something else.
I heard:
Why can't you be like your sister?
And it was easier to pretend I was worthless than to try… and fail.
I came back to the present.
My eyes fell on the objects lined up on the desk.
The keys.
The vial.
The lie.
And Avery in the middle of all of it.
My stomach tightened.
Because despite everything…
Despite the jealousy.
Despite the misunderstandings.
Despite the years spent acting like an idiot.
She was my sister.
And the only thing I was sure of…
Was that if someone was going to figure out what was happening here,
it would be me.
And for once,
I wasn't going to pretend to be stupid anymore.
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