The One Real Thing

“What the hell did you do?” he whispered hoarsely.

“You have to understand,” I pleaded. “The way you reacted to Sarah’s letters, to what she did . . . I thought for sure that you would react the same to me. And I . . . I mean it when I say I haven’t spoken to anyone about this. I’ve spent so long not thinking about that time, not wanting anyone to know, that anytime someone asked about my family, about my past . . . I felt like I might die if they found out. If you ever found out.”

“Jesus, Jess . . .” His eyes softened.

“But Cat said something and then George . . . and I realize now—and I’m so sorry, Cooper, because you were right, I owe you this.”

“Then just tell me because I’m going out of my fucking mind here.”

I dragged my hands down my face and let out a shaky sigh as I tried to tamp down the wave of nausea.

“Are you going to be sick?” he said, taking a step toward me, unable to hide his concern for me.

God, please don’t let this take away that concern.

I pushed through, forcing the words out. “I didn’t just take the position at the prison because I wanted to help the women,” I said, my words stilted, fragile with fear and pain. “I took it because I felt a little like one of them; like they understood me without even knowing it.”

Cooper paled. “Jess . . .”

“I was fourteen.”

His eyes turned dark, hollowed. Mirroring mine, perhaps, as I went back there, to that place; that horrible, tormented place.

“My parents were always busy with work and each other. The only time they ever seemed to get it together for us was for some of Julia’s performances. They liked to watch her dance. We all did.

“She was eleven years old.” My chest tightened at the memory, just like it had the day I found them. “I’d been out with friends. My parents used to leave us alone a lot so I was the one who looked after Julia. There was my aunt Theresa, we were close to her, but she was at school and we only ever saw her during school breaks, and she’d look after Julia if I couldn’t. So the only time I got to myself when she wasn’t around was when my dad’s kid brother, Tony, came around. He’d lived out of state for most of our lives, but he’d moved back a few years before. I remember being glad. I liked him. I was grateful to him for being interested in us.” I curled my lip in disgust at my naïveté. “I didn’t sense anything bad from him.”

“Jesus Christ,” Cooper breathed.

“I would go out with friends when he came around because he watched Julia.” I looked over at Cooper through blurred vision, begging him to believe me. “I didn’t know. I didn’t know what he was doing to her until that day. I came home early and I couldn’t find them . . . but I heard something . . . down in the basement, in our games room. And what I saw . . .”

“Fuck, Jessica.” Cooper strode over to me, pulling me into his arms.

I held on to him for dear life. “I just flew at him,” I said, lost in the memory. “This rage just came over me. It startled him enough that I was able to grab Julia. We were running up the stairs”—my grip on Coop tightened—“and he caught hold of her and there was this look in his eyes . . . God, it was like staring straight into evil.” The words tumbled out of me. “And I just—I just had this overwhelming sense that he wasn’t going to let us out of there alive.” I pulled back. “I don’t know if it was just the fear of a kid or if I felt something instinctual, but whatever it was . . . I managed to pull Julia away from him, but he came at me at the top of the stairs. He got me on my back and it was a blur . . . he just kept punching me until suddenly he wasn’t on me and I heard my sister scream. When I got up, when I could focus, he had her pinned against the wall, and he was choking her. I had to stop him. My father’s golf clubs were there. I took one. I swung.” I closed my eyes, still remembering the shudder of impact up my arms, the sickening thud of it against his head. “He fell down the stairs. Broke his neck.”

I found the courage to look up at Cooper. He stared down at me, looking tortured. “I killed my uncle.”

His eyes shone for me. “Jessica.”

“Julia told our parents what had happened. What had been happening. For two years.” My face crumpled again. I’d failed her. “I wasn’t sentenced. The police considered it self-defense—I was badly beaten and my sister bore physical evidence of everything we’d said had happened. But we were both put into therapy for a long time. It helped.” I let out a long breath. “For me. But then Julia just . . . she focused in on dancing. To an unhealthy degree. And when she didn’t get into the school of her dreams, she hung herself in my parents’ basement. I was the one who found her.

“My parents blamed me. They refused to believe that she killed herself because of what Tony did. They said she couldn’t live with the memory, the horror, of watching her sister kill a man right in front of her. And me . . . well, I let them get away with it because the truth is, I failed her.”

I saw Cooper’s face transform, the fury burning in his blue eyes. “No. Your parents failed Julia. You fought for her.” His grip on me tightened as he tugged me close. “Jess, what you did . . . it was brave. You know that, right? And every day since has been brave. Why are you punishing yourself? You killed a man defending yourself and the person you loved. Horrific for you, yes. But I cannot say I wouldn’t have done the same fucking thing.”