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Megan cuddles Ben close as they leave the room.
“It’s not like that!” Rosie’s voice is surprisingly
strong, her eyes shining. “It’s not like that—I didn’t even
know you existed—I thought you’d died!”
“Well, wouldn’t that have been convenient?” say,
sneering.
“I thought you were dead,” she repeats, “and when
found out you weren’t,
wanted to just walk away.
never wanted to hurt you—”
“Then why did you?” yell at her. “There are plenty
of planes leaving every day—you could have left any time!
Why didn’t you?”
“I couldn’t.”
“Why? Because you’d found your dad, and that was
all that mattered to you? Screw everyone else—who cares
how many lives you ruin?”
“No!”
“Holly—” Dad takes my arm.
“Yes!” scream at her, shrugging him away. “Yes—
you’re selfish bitch!”
“No.” Rosie’s voice is quiet now, determined. Her
eyes meet mine. “You had to know.”
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“Really?” My voice drips with sarcasm. “I just had to know that my dad’s not really my dad, that my whole life
is one big lie, except—oh, yeah—my mom’s still dead!”
glare at her. “I just couldn’t live without that knowledge
second longer, could I?”
“You had to know—”
“Rosie—” Dad warns.
“She has to know!” Her eyes are desperate, fraught.
“Know what?”
stare at him, icy dread trickling
slowly down my spine. “Dad? Know what?”
“Trudie died—” Rosie begins.
“Yeah, thanks, got that.”
“Of Huntington’s disease.” She looks at me, then
drops her eyes to the floor, screws them shut.
Dad sighs heavily.
“What?”
frown, staring at her, at Dad. Have
missed something? “Like
said, what difference does it
make?” look from one to the other insistently. “What the
hell is Hunting’s disease, anyway?”
“Huntington’s disease,” Rosie corrects me quietly,
her voice strained, her gaze glued to the floor. “It’s
terminal illness—a deterioration of the mind, the body …”
stare at her, mystified. So?
She looks at me, her eyes sad, regretful. “Holly, I’m
so sorry …”
don’t breathe. just watch her eyes well up with
pain and regret, my heart poised on knife edge.
“It’s hereditary.”
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Rosie
My words slice through the room, sharp and swift
and brutal, leaving everyone deathly silent. Holly stares at
me numbly, but can’t meet her eyes.
“Holly—” Jack whispers. He takes her hand but she
doesn’t move.
stare at the floor, my cheeks burning. Now know
how Pandora felt.
“Sweetheart, it’s okay, it’s go
soothes, stroking her hand.
“How?” She looks at him with the same blank
expression. “It’s hereditary
I’m go
“No,” Jack tells her, his eyes intense, his voice
breaking. “No, you’re not—it’s not even definite you’ve
inherited it—it’s just chance.”
She stares at him. “What chance?”
Jack hesitates, swallows. “Fifty percent. Right,
Rosie?” He looks at me.
nod absently. feel Holly’s eyes on me but can’t
look.
“That’s all, just fifty percent—you’re just as likely
not to have it. Okay, Holly-berry?” he says, his voice
infused with determined hope, with fear. “Okay?”
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squeeze my eyes shut tight, remembering those
same words being said to me, feeling Holly’s pain as the
realization sinks in. was wrong—it’s not always best to
know the truth. Ignorance is bliss, isn’t that what they
say? And I’ve just shattered her ignorance, her bliss, her
life, with this one foul sledgehammer of truth.
Holly’s right. am selfish. If only could have left
well alone, walked away
scrape my chair back, shattering the silence.
“I’m sorry.”
stand up, my face hot as
stumble
toward the door. “I’m so sorry. I’ll get out of your way,
I’ll—”
“Rosie …” Jack’s voice is gentle but still stings.
“I’m so sorry.”
flee quickly through the door,
ru
face.
She had to know, tell myself, blinking hard, trying
to block out the image of her face—blanched with shock,
staring wide-eyed as ripped her world apart. She had to
know …
Didn’t she?
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Holly
watch Rosie leave, hammering down the steps like
thunder. Dad looks at me anxiously, his grip tight on my
hand, waiting for me to react. But can’t.
Everything feels unreal, somehow—like I’m
watching myself from
distance, like I’ve left my body.
Like I’m already dead.
Even the sharp buzz of my cell phone doesn’t make
me jump. stare at the illuminated screen.
Josh
God, Josh. My fiancé. The fiancé
was scared to
burden by telling him
was pregnant. Now I’ve got
terminal illness too.
stare at the phone as it shudders violently on the
table. Megan glances at Dad, then silently reaches over
and turns it off.
“Holly …,” Dad starts. “Holly-berry, talk to me …”
shake my head, tiny movement, all can manage.
“It’ll be okay, you’ll see …”
shake my head harder, cold sweat trickling down
my neck.
“It will, promise—you probably don’t even have
the disease—and even if you do—Holly!” lunge for the
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sink, my knees buckling as heave my guts out over the
dirty dishes.
“Shhh,” Dad soothes, his arms around me as he
brushes my hair back from my face. “It’s all right, it’ll be
okay …”
“How …,”
whimper, wiping my wrist across my
mouth, my skin cold and clammy, my voice hoarse. “How
did this happen …?”
He sighs heavily. “I don’t know, sweetheart.” He
looks at me helplessly, his eyes the saddest I’ve ever seen
them. “I have no idea.”
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Rosie
The raindrops blur into my tears as
stare out
blankly across the beach, at the wispy sea grass billowing
in the wind, the boats bobbing up and down on the
churning gray sea. wish could just get in one and sail
far, far away
“Rose? Rosie!” turn at the sound of Andy’s voice.
“What’re you doing out here? It’s raining!” He
hurries down the road toward me,
rucksack over each
shoulder. “Here, put this on.” He drops the bags onto the
sand and throws me
waterproof jacket. “Thought we
might need our stuff from the and B.” He grins. “As we’re
staying.”
close my eyes.
“So where’d you get to, early bird?” he asks. “I woke
up at the crack of dawn and you’d disappeared!”
“I’m sorry.” sigh, the words too familiar on my lips.
“Where were you?” he says. “I tried your phone …”
“I’m sorry, forgot it,” say, rubbing my face. “I was
with Jack, we went to the fish market.”
“Right.” He nods. “Well, next time leave
note or
something, will you? was worried.”
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“I’m sorry!” turn on him. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m
sorry— okay? Tears sting my eyes and look away, my
breath shuddering in my chest.
“Rosie …” He wraps his arm gently round my
shoulders. “Rosie, what’s the matter? What’s happened?”
look at him, wave of hopelessness crashing over
me. “Holly knows,” tell him miserably. “I told her about
Mum—about Huntington’s. Jack asked me not to—he