Welcome to the Family

13

Click. Click. Click - the pen I twirled was snatched from my fingers, Ashton slamming down the pen on the island counter. "What is your problem," he snapped, furrowing his brows.

"You are my problem," I sassed, picking up my pen.

"Hey - no fighting," Cameron shouted from the balcony.

Like the child I am, I stuck out my tongue before glancing down at my notebook. My twin muttered something under his breath that I didn't quite hear and ignored him.

Ashton had been annoying me all day. We were both running on hours of sleep and caffeine, which did not help the irritable moods we seemed to be sporting. I stayed up all night thinking about the photograph. It taunted me, even in my dreams.

You can run, but you can't hide.

Those exact words had been what the man in the park said just before he disappeared.

Someone is stalking me, I thought, watching me.

The thought of someone watching me was paralyzing. It meant whoever stalking me was catching up, no doubt planning to kidnap me or worse. Two people could be behind the photograph, my father for one.

He wanted revenge for my betrayal. When I told the cops about what happened, he became a sort of outcast. People didn't want to do business with him, knowing the police were watching him closely. It made him seem weak, a liability. And it only got worse for him when he was charged with the murder of Amy Holland and spent twelve months in prison.

He hated me. Which was okay. I hated him too.

Yet, he wasn't the only person that wanted to spill my blood. One thing I became good at, other than running, was fighting. Illegal street fighting. I had made a reputation for myself, and many people wanted to profit from me. Many people - greedy, wicked people, did make money from me.

Despite the blood I shed, I didn't believe that any of these people had to do with my father's message: you can run, but you can't hide.

Those words kept replaying over and over and over again in my head. You can run, but you can't hide. You can run, but you can't hide. You can run, but you can't hide. You can run, but you can't hide. You can run, but you can't hide. You can run, but you can't hide. You can run, but you can't hide.

"Mase ... Maisie."

Someone squeezed my hand hard, pulling me from my thoughts. Ashton stared, and I blinked. "Y-yeah?" I croaked, not sure if he had said anything else.

"What's going on?" His demeanour had changed, his voice low and softer. "You've got your head in the clouds."

"Sorry."

"What were you thinking about?"

"Nothing."

"Bullshit. I can feel it, y'know."

I look at him, pursing my lips. "Feel what, Ash?"

"Your sadness," he murmured. "For all these years, whenever someone asked whether we had that twin thing where we could feel each other's pain or emotions, I always said no. But, I do now."

I shook my head. "Ash, that's ridiculous."

"Maybe. But I know you're sad. I can feel it in my chest, a dull, continuous ache over my heart." I stared at him like he had two heads. "I'm sorry for lashing out at you earlier."

I swallowed, fighting back the tears. "Me too, I'm sorry. It's just been stressful."

"I'll always be here for you," he whispered, squeezing my hand. "Always."