What Nobody Else Sees

chapter thirty six

She couldn't get it off her mind. Her hands gripping the steering wheel, Callie knew that if she didn't work it out, she wouldn't be sleeping tonight.

Again.

Scratching Max behind his ear, she set out for Donna's house. She hoped Brian wasn't around. He always made Callie so uncomfortable, with his wandering eyes and warning 'jokes' about the cleanliness of the house. She would do anything to grab her sister by the wrist and drag her far, far away from him.

Why didn't she do that for you? She didn't protect you, she didn't save you, she betrayed you.

He never loved you, he never could, she was always better, she's confident and smart and pretty and everything you never could be-,

Callie hastily put the car in park and flung herself out, the rage beginning to suffocate her. She pounded on the door, her bloody fist aching with each bang. She hadn't heard from her sister in a few weeks-was it two or three? These days, she didn't keep count.

The door flung open, Donna staring back at her. The woman relaxed, leaning against the doorframe, though there was still suspicion in her blue eyes. Her strawberry blonde hair was pulled into a low ponytail. They had always looked so similar. Was that what Peter liked?

"Callie, what can I do for you?" she breezily said.

Callie could've hit her. She hated that air of confidence Donna always possessed, hated the way she could control almost any man she wanted to, hated the way that she could smile through the pain.

"Why?" Callie spat out, because what else was there to say?

Donna's eyes widened as she sputtered, searching for some answer that would satisfy Callie. She thought Donna looked like a fish when she was gaping like that. A beautiful, perfect fish. Every time she saw her sister, it was just salt in the wound. Donna made the bruises she made the scars turn to stars, she made the bloody lips something elegant and straight from a noir film.

And some part of Callie was screaming that she was stupid to romanticize the abuse her sister suffered from, that she was cruel to idolize the injuries. How could she be jealous of the way her sister carried the emotional and physical baggage of abuse? She knew that Donna was afraid, she had bandaged up her big sister's cuts when they were still young, when they still held the concept of leaving Key Creek close.

"I knew that he wanted you, but I didn't know that you could be so selfish," Callie choked out, tears beginning to fall. "How could you? How could you even look at him, knowing that I was waiting at home, knowing that he would leave your place and beat me, knowing that he was mine?"

He was hers, once, and she was his. He broke her. He ruined her. If Callie was Rome, then he was the final ruler, destroying her until they both fell.

"Callie, I did it because of you," Donna began, reaching to take Callie's hand.

Callie pulled back, staring up at her older sister in horror. "Because of me?"

Donna shook her head frantically, taking a step closer. "No, no-just listen, Cal. I thought-I thought that if I could get him away from you, you'd be safer. Maybe you would leave him, once you saw that he was cheating. It was getting out of hand," she paused, looking Callie in the eye. "I know we agreed to keep our mouths shut and turn a blind eye to each other, but it was too much. Cal, tell me you can see that. Tell me you know it was too much."

Too much? Yeah, Callie knew it was too much, and she took care of it with a single bullet in her gun.

"I can't let this keep happening, Callie," Donna whispered, her eyes filled with apprehension. "It is a cycle and you know it has to stop."

Callie scowled, her heart pounding so hard she thought it would burst right out of her aching chest. Donna had always believed that they were victims of a generational curse, forever losing in a war against lovers and families. Their grandfather, their mother's emotional fragility, their choice in men. When Callie was in a good state of mind, she was able to understand it, to believe it.

Now, with Peter gone, she understood the problems Donna had seen way back in '81, in the middle of the living room, when the Christmas lights flickered and died right in front of Callie's teenage eyes.

"Then you should've left first," she hissed, tears in her eyes. "You've always been so adamant that it's a generational cycle, so fix it, Donna. You want it to end, then start by fixing your own mess."

It was so it was such a double standard. But what was she supposed to do? As the youngest of three messed up, ruined, broken children, how was Callie supposed to fix any of this?

Donna held her head up high, taking short, shallow breaths. Always brave, always proud. "You know better than anyone that it's not easy. Why do you think Gramma couldn't leave her husband, why he had to die for her to escape him? Because, since the beginning of time, Cal, we've been too damn scared!"

He had to die, he had to die, you killed your husband, you did this, you murdered him, you murdered your husband-,

Donna wilted, wrapping her arms around herself. "I trust you, Callie, ok? When it comes to this, I trust you more."

Callie wiped her still falling tears. "I thought I could trust you," she breathed out, voice cracking. "I thought I had one sibling left. I thought my sister would at least have the guts to stab me in the chest, not the back."

I thought he loved me

I thought I meant something to both of you

I thought Hollis was only a stand in sister, but she's the only one that hasn't left

Selfish selfish selfish-.

She stepped back, resigned. There was nothing left. "I guess I was wrong about a lot of things."

She left her sister on the porch, helpless and alone, just as she had been left so many times before.