Somewhere Between the Depths

Chapter Twelve

Nora

Two weeks later

I finish connecting the newly painted porch swing to the chains I installed yesterday, grinning triumphantly when it holds steady. Lydia steps out onto the porch and smiles at me, approaching me quietly before kneeling next to the cans of paint I have open and ready to paint the porch. 

"Mind if I help?" 

I shrug, feeling that familiar need to brush her off bunching between my shoulder blades, but I bite my tongue and kneel down next to her, taking one of the paintbrushes and maneuvering down to begin on the steps. The whole porch was sanded yesterday morning, and I laid a coat of primer down last night before heading back to Silas's house. It was shameful the amount of time I was spending with him, at his house, in his bed, around his brothers. But I've smiled more the last few weeks, I've felt freer since opening up to him. And once that dam broke, I couldn't stop the flow of words, and Silas let me vent. He let me scream and cry and rage against the past as often as I needed to, but lately I haven't felt that need as much. 

Until now. 

Lydia and I work in silence for the better part of an hour. We're making good progress and I'm more than content to finish this part of the renovations quietly, but then she shifts, a frown creating a line between her perfectly shapes brows and she drops her paintbrush onto the paint can at her side.

"Why do you hate me, Nora?" 

I sigh at the abrasive question, tilting my head up until I lock eyes with hers. A year ago, hell, even a few weeks ago, I would've snapped at her, bared my teeth and given her a list of reasons.  But today, I take the time to really look at my sister. Taking in the soft pale skin of her face that's flushed from working in the heat, the clear bright blue of her widened eyes as she waits for my answer, and for the first time I realize how young my sister is. The air of innocence surrounding her striking me in my chest, sending a sharp pain through my heart. It wasn't fair what happened to me. It was cold and cruel and monstrous, but... It also wasn't Lydia's fault. 

The realization hits me like ice water, and I stare at her with fresh eyes. I'm unable to erase the years of hate and hurt between us, but maybe, just maybe I can open a small window to a different path. One where we can talk and laugh without the horrors of my past looming over us like ravenous beasts awaiting their next meal. I don't have to hate her for something she had no say or control or even knowledge of. Lydia didn't do those horrible things to me; she didn't force me into those rings. She didn't harm me, maim me, mock me, or treat me like a caged animal. 

"I don't hate you, Lydia." I say softly, "I used to resent you, but it was never your fault." 

"Resent me for what?" 

"For how different our lives were." I admit.  

Lydia holds my gaze, her eyes searching my face with a quiet seriousness that mirrored my own. 

"Is this about the fighting?" Her voice is barely above a whisper. 

"We don't have to talk about it." I shake my head, going back to painting the porch railing. 

Lydia stands behind me, crossing the small distance until she's peering up at me with a fierce determination on her delicate features. 

"What did mom and dad have to do with your fighting, Nora?" 

I look at my sister and let out a long, tired sigh. I don't want to ruin her image of them, because while they may have hurt me, they treated her like royalty. She has so many fond memories of them that I couldn't bear to take away from her. So, I shake my head again, trying to sidestep this conversation as quickly as possible.