Chapter 12 - The Reckoning
I didn't run.
For twenty-two years, I had spent my life retreating. I had retreated when she broke my toys. I had retreated when she drowned my infant brother. I had retreated when she drove me through the glass door at six years old, letting my parents convince me that my own clumsy body was to blame for the metal screwed into my skull.
I was done retreating.
As Vanessa leaped forward, the scalpel aimed at my jugular, I sidestepped to the right, using her own momentum against her. Her shoulder slammed into the edge of the dresser, throwing her off balance.
She spun around, slashing wildly. The tip of the surgical blade tore through the sleeve of my trench coat, slicing a shallow line across my forearm.
The pain was cold and sharp, but I barely registered it.
I grabbed a heavy wooden picture frame from the dresser—our wedding photo, Daniel and I smiling beneath an arch of white hydrangeas—and drove the corner of the frame directly into Vanessa’s face.
*CRACK.*
The impact shattered her nose with a sickening crunch.
Vanessa screamed, stumbling backward, dropping the scalpel onto the bloody carpet. She clutched her face, blood pouring through her fingers, staining her manicured hands and her designer coat.
“You broke my nose!” she shrieked, falling to her knees. “You ugly little bitch! You broke my face!”
“Now we match,” I whispered coldly, kicking the scalpel under the bed where she couldn't reach it.
Behind me, the sound of a heavy blow echoed through the room.
Vasquez stood up from the floor, panting heavily, his duty weapon drawn and aimed at Thomas Bennett, who lay unconscious on the hardwood, his jaw visibly dislocated.
Daniel was groaning on the floor, trying to push himself up against the shattered mirrored closet.
Vasquez didn't say a word. He stepped over to Daniel, grabbed him by the scruff of his cashmere sweater, hauled him to his feet, and slammed him face-first against the wall.
*Click. Snap.*
The steel handcuffs locked around Daniel’s wrists with absolute finality.
“Daniel Vance,” Vasquez rasped, his breath coming in ragged gasps, blood dripping from a cut above his own eyebrow. “You are under arrest for attempted murder, conspiracy to commit murder, and aggravated assault.”
Sirens wailed in the streets below—not two cars, but a dozen.
The screech of tires filled the alleyway as Henrico County and Richmond City police cruisers converged on the townhouse, their flashing red and blue strobes painting the shattered bedroom in rhythmic waves of emergency light.
Vanessa remained on her knees, sobbing uncontrollably into her bloody hands.
“Mom will fix this,” she muttered, rocking back and forth like a broken child. “Mom will call the governor. Dad will pay them. They can’t lock me up. I’m a Montgomery!”
I stood over her, looking down at the monster who had terrorized my entire existence.
“Dad can’t save you, Vanessa,” I said softly.
She looked up, her bloodshot eyes pleading through a mask of blood and mascara. “Claire... please. We’re sisters. We share the same blood.”
“The blood Julian drowned in?” I asked.
Vanessa froze. The manic hysteria vanished from her eyes, replaced by a hollow, bottomless void.
The bedroom door was kicked open by tactical officers in heavy armor, their rifles raised.
“Police! Hands where we can see them! Nobody move!”
Vasquez held up his badge with his left hand, keeping his right on Daniel’s collar. “Officer secure! Suspects in custody!”
As the officers swarmed the room, pushing Vanessa to the floor and zip-tying her wrists behind her back, I walked out of the bedroom.
I walked down the dark hallway of the apartment that was supposed to be my home.
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On the dining table, the dead white roses from my wedding reception sat rotting in their crystal vase. I picked up one of the wilted stems, stripped the dead petals between my fingers, and let them fall to the floor.
***
