11 - Its Your Sister

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The docks are quiet in the way that makes your skin crawl — too still, too dark, the water slapping against wood in uneven, nervous rhythms

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The docks are quiet in the way that makes your skin crawl — too still, too dark, the water slapping against wood in uneven, nervous rhythms. The mist hangs low, swallowing the ends of the pier like the world just falls into nothing, and something in me tightens the further I walk into it.

"Wheezie?" I call, walking around the dock, my footsteps hollow in the silence.
"Come on. Wheeze."

A soft creak echoes behind me — footsteps. Heavy. Slow.

My heart lurches.

"Is that you? Wheeze?" I ask, stepping toward the sound, hope flickering thin against a rising unease I can't quite place.

But when I round the corner, my stomach drops.

Rafe.

Not Wheezie.

"Nah, not Wheezie," he says, voice almost bored — but his eyes.... his eyes are wild, unmoored in a way that sends cold sliding down my spine.

"Where the hell is Wheezie?"

"Don't worry about it." He steps toward me, and I instinctively back up, the wood groaning beneath me, my pulse already climbing fast.

"Listen... Whoa. It's all good. I.. I just... I just... I needed to talk to you like a little bit. Is that okay?" His voice shakes, but not with fear — with something unhinged, something that makes every instinct in me scream to run.

"Don't come near me."

He ignores it.

"'Cause... cause what you do affects me okay? You don't... you didn't think of that do you?"

Anger stabs through my fear, sharp and sudden.

"You shot me Rafe."

His jaw twitches.

"That's it right? It's... it's always my fault right? Like uh... you know I... I wanna keep what's mine that I got by my work and I'm the bad guy for trying to... to hold on to it?"

"It's not yours."

He steps closer, breath uneven, and every muscle in my body goes taut with the need to bolt.

"Like I'm wrong to protect what's mine huh? Listen to me okay? The cops are going to talk to you, and... and I need to make sure the story's straight because—"

I don't hesitate.

"You killed Peterkin. My story's straight."

His face darkens. The air seems to shrink around us.

"Listen to me Rafe this would go so much better for you if you would—"

"Who are trying to protect here? Huh?"

"I am trying to do the right thing."

"You're trying to do the right thing?" Rafe laughs — this sharp, broken sound that chills me straight through, nothing like the brother I grew up with.

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