Chapter 8 - The Price of Silence
The sound of the knocking vibrated through the floorboards.
Lauren looked around the room like a trapped animal. She looked at Mom, who was weeping hysterically on the floor. She looked at Dad, who turned his back on her. She looked at Mark, whose face was an unreadable mask of cold indifference.
Finally, her eyes landed on me.
“Claire,” she sobbed, dropping to her knees, her polished act completely dissolved into pathetic groveling. “Claire, please! Talk to them! Tell them it was a family dispute! You’re my sister! You can’t let them take me to jail!”
I looked down at her.
For years, I had craved her approval. I had wanted the sisterly bond she was always happy to fake in front of crowds. I had swallowed my pride, apologized for things I didn't do, and let her walk all over my life just to keep the quiet.
“You called him ‘honey’ because you wanted to take the one thing you thought belonged to me,” I said softly, looking down into her terrified eyes. “You didn’t even want Daniel, Lauren. You just wanted me to lose.”
“I’m sorry! I’m so sorry!” she cried out as the front door clicked open and two uniform officers stepped into the hallway, led by Mark’s attorney.
“I know you’re sorry,” I said, taking a step back as the officers approached her. “You’re sorry you got caught.”
The handcuffs clicked loudly in the silent room.
As they led Lauren away, her screaming echoing down the driveway, Mom tried to follow them, but Dad firmly grabbed her arm, stopping her at the door.
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“If you walk out that door with her, Eleanor,” Dad said quietly, “don’t ever come back to this house.”
Mom stopped dead in her tracks, looking between her husband and the empty doorway, realized she had lost everything she had spent five years trying to cover up.
