My Brother's Keeper
Chapter 6 - Down the Rabbit Hole

I’m somewhere between reality and a fairy tale. Everything is hazy, and while I can see my hand around Preston’s throat, I can’t feel my fingers on his flesh.

“Looks like the tables have turned,” I comment.

Only it isn’t me who says it. Is it another part of me, a dormant piece of me? A feature I may have forgotten. Is this the witch?

Just shut up and watch.

Twins. The word carries on an invisible breeze. I can see it blowing my hair, but I don’t feel its freshness on my face.

Is my sister inside me?

“Odile!” I hear a voice call behind me, and I spin around to replace my father standing near the sidewalk.

How he had got, there was a mystery. My face turns in Preston’s direction. We are standing in the center of the front yard, surrounded by patches of dead grass. The air is thick with the smell of rain, but I know it’s a farce. The rain will never come.

“Shit,” my voice says, and I collapse to the ground, my hand pulling from Preston’s throat as his father comes running out the front door.

In seconds I go from sitting inside a mirror to feeling adrenaline rush through my body. I back away from Preston as he coughs. Would he have done me the same gesture had the tables been turned?

He was going to kill me. I shouldn’t be stepping away; I should finish the job.

“Julien,” my father acknowledges as Doctor Stuart helps his son off the ground.

“Donald.” Julian nods. “What’s going on out here?”

I’m inside my head again. I can feel my limbs. I am in control, or am I?

“All I want is for him to leave my brother alone,” I sob.

My emotions are all over the place. I don’t know what to feel. I’m elated and frightened.

“Stay out of this, Odette,” my father demands, and I latch my mouth shut.

Julian Stuart looks at me and points at my face. “Did you do this to her?” he shouts at Preston.

I looked like a mess, standing in the middle of the Stuart’s front yard with two black eyes, a busted lip, and shivering from the cold.

“She came at me first!” Preston fires back.

The only thing holding him back from attacking me is his father. Preston isn’t scared of anyone or anything unless it’s his dad.

“I don’t care who you think you are. Why are you laying your hands on Laura Sloan’s daughter?” Julian Stuart is furious, and I guess for a good reason.

He narrows his eyes and grips his hands tightly together.

“She can’t do anything to me. You made sure of that,” Preston replies with a snarl.

Julien swallows hard and glances at my dad.

Yeah, Doctor Stuart, I heard it. You made sure she couldn’t hurt Preston.

“Can he leave my brother alone? The bruises will heal, but losing my brother won’t,” I request in a softer tone.

Doctor Stuart returns his irritated gaze to his son.

“Preston, what have you done to Paxton Stephenson?” his father demands.

Preston shakes his head and glares at me. I’m sure he’s plotting a hundred ways to get even with me.

“Nothing. Odette’s crazy,” Preston grumbles. He’s glaring at me, and if looks could kill, I would have been dead on the grass.

I glare at him, wishing I had half the strength I did when I first realized where I was.

“You told him to kill himself!” I scream at him.

Julian Stuart grabs his son by the back of the shirt and pulls him down to the ground.

I want to stay to see what happens next, but my father throws me over his shoulder and races to the car.

“I’ll take care of this, Donald,” Julien calls out.

“I know you will,” my dad answers as he tosses me into the backseat.

My dad is behind the wheel and around the corner before I can turn my head to look at the Stuart’s front yard.

“When we get home, there are a few things we’re going to get straight. Have you been taking your medication?” He doesn’t sound angry, but there’s a bit of venom under his tone.

“I didn’t tonight,” I mumble.

“And last night?” he presses.

“I forgot,” I confess.

I feel bad enough about the sleepwalking, but something about it confuses me. The only difference between the two nights is my medication.

“You can’t keep missing doses. I made a deal with Doctor Stuart when he released you. I would make sure you stayed on your medicine. I don’t want to take you back there because you refuse to listen.” He grips the steering wheel tightly in his hands.

“I forget two times, and suddenly you want to send me back?” I groan.

“I didn’t say that.” He glances at me as we speed down the road toward the house.

It would be best if you found out what’s going on.

We walk through the door. Dad tosses his eyes on the counter and turns to look at me.

“Karen, get in here. It’s time we have this talk,” my dad’s voice echoes through the house.

It takes a few minutes, but Karen soon enters and glares at me. Her perfectly manicured hands are on her hips, the perfect picture of the irritated mother.

“Sit!” he demands, pointing at the chair to my left.

“What about Pax?” I ask slowly.

“Pax isn’t old enough to know what’s happening,” Karen answers with a smirk. “I told you to take her home, Donald.”

“And what good would that have done!” he snaps.

My father’s rage is frightening, but the look on Karen’s face is almost pure satisfaction. It didn’t take a genius to figure out she hated me, but something told me this wasn’t about her.

“She wouldn’t be our problem anymore.”

Dad stares at her. “And your family is innocent in all of this?”

Karen rolls her eyes and sits at the table’s far end.

My father growls and sits down at the head of the table. His hands are in fists, his eyes are bloodshot, and I’m afraid he would implode if one more thing happened.

“I don’t understand any of this,” I admit, looking between them.

“You’re a pariah,” she states with satisfaction.

“Damn it, Karen, all of you are. I’m one of the few normal people in this town. Everyone else is something else. The guy that owns the grocery store is an ogre. The pizza delivery boy is the son of an owl shifter. Two doors down are a family of elves.” My father struggles to replace the right words, and while Karen replaces his frustration amusing, I’m confused.

“Maybe you shouldn’t have slept with the witch!” she snaps at him.

There it is again. Mommy is a witch!

I furrow my brows. “Can we start at the beginning? I’m not following any of this.”

Everything I had felt before was gone, and sitting in the chair was the same traumatized teenager who had just found out it was she who had killed her mother.

“Your mother is from another realm, one parallel to this one,” my father explains, and Karen remains quiet for the first time since this conversation started.

“Like a multiverse?” I ask.

“Yeah, sure. However, you need to look at it to understand,” he confirms.

And people thought I was crazy?

“Your mom opened a portal between our kingdom and an alternate reality. At some point, she closed the portal and shut off the borders, locking us inside.,” Karen says without a single breath. “To open the gate, you need royal blood. You have to make sacrifices to reverse the spell.”

“And Pax is a royal, so you’re afraid I’ll kill him?”

“No, I know you won’t hurt Pax, but it can backfire on him when this whole thing goes south. He has your father and me. He doesn’t need the witch’s offspring to protect him from the other royal bullies,” Karen scoffs.

I look at my father. “Okay, now what is she talking about?”

“She doesn’t like the fact you are Pax’s sister.” He shrugs.

That was a fair enough feeling.

“If you don’t think I’ll hurt Pax, why suggest the home?” I question.

“Karen has a twisted sense of humor,” my father mutters through clenched teeth.

Something tells me he’s covering for her, and judging by her smug look, he was doing a poor job of it.

“Oh, there is no home. I want him to take you to the lake and drown you when I say that.” She smiles wickedly.

My father lets out a nervous laugh and then glares at his wife.

“See. Such a twisted sense of humor. Karen would never —” He was forcing a smile.

“Oh no, I mean exactly what I said.” Karen’s face lights up. I know there is nothing my father can say to fix her blatant honesty.

I’ve never seen this side of Karen before. Are all royals like this? Do I need to watch for these characteristics in the people I meet? She makes me feel even more unwelcome in their home.

“Well, that’s disturbing,” I admit.

The last thing I wanted to think about was Karen daydreaming of me dying. Then again, a part of me always suspected she wished I didn’t exist. Maybe it was all those times she talked poorly of my mother. Or perhaps how she was emotionally unavailable when I needed someone to listen. I had zero connection with Karen, and it wasn’t from a lack of trying. At least now I knew it wasn’t me who refused to connect.

Moving on!

“Was the hospital real?” I ask.

“Yes. Everything you experienced is real,” my father affirms.

I sit quietly for a moment, looking between the two adults and wondering what sort of messed-up situation they have put me in. I should have stayed at Eider. Something tells me that was the safest place for me to be.

“I want to talk to Lenny. You two suck at telling a story,” I groan loudly and rub my eyes. Their bickering was giving me a headache.

Karen snorts, “Why do you want to talk to that loser?”

“Because I’m the one who killed her. Lenny’s doing time for a crime I committed.”

I may not have come to terms with my hands committing the crime. However, I was empathetic enough to know Lenny was taking the fall.

“You told her!” she screeches, causing me to cover my ears.

“I had to! Soren’s back.” My father’s eyes widen, and Karen glances around the room.

Suddenly, I’m no longer the main focal point in the room. Their eyes locked in a secret staring contest. Karen’s jaw is tense. I’m waiting for her teeth to crack, and my father’s nostrils are flaring.

“I can leave if the two of you need to talk.” I gesture toward the stairwell.

After watching them for two more minutes, I walk up the stairs and into my room. They have answered none of my questions.

I sit down on the bed and lean back. Staring at my ceiling, I try to recall life before the hospital. Searching through the minimal memories to replace anything with my mother. I had a few basic ideas, but it didn’t feel like I was the one experiencing them.

Pst. Odette.