Benjamin stills, and his bottom lip twitches. “You think it doesn’t bother me?” His voice is a low whisper. “You think I didn’t live wondering if you were ok?”

“It wasn’t enough,” I roar. “If it was, you would have stayed.”

“I had no choice.”

“There’s always a choice.”

“No, William. There isn’t.”

“Get out of my house, Ben.”

He shakes his head. “No.”

“I’m not going to say it again, get out.”

He steps up close. “I said fucking no!”

I lift my fist and I drive it into his nose, causing a loud crunch to fill the room. He snarls and hits me hard in the mouth. Then we’re slammed against the wall, our bodies wild, our fists flying. He shoves me into a nearby corner unit, causing lamps and ornaments to smash onto the ground. I bellow in rage, and wrap my hands around his throat, pressing him against the wall.

“Get the fuck out!” I spit.

“I’m sorry,” he rasps. “Is that what you want from me, Will? Do you want to know how much I suffer because of what happened? Do you want to know how much it hurt to be dragged away from you? You are my twin, William. You’re not just my brother; you’re my other half. If you want me to say it, I’ll say it. I’m sorry.”

My legs feel weak suddenly, and my chest seizes. I drop my hands and he reaches up, rubbing his neck. I feel my body sink to the floor, as reality finally sets in. I’ve lost everything. Ben comes down with me, wrapping his arms around me.

“I’m so fucking sorry, Will.”

I say nothing.

There’s nothing more to say.

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

Week Two

“You’re a bunch of freaks!” a group of males bark at uale“Is.

We went out, trying to find some semblance of a normal life. A group of men decided to join us at our table, and decided after one attempt at dancing with us, that we’re freaks. When their hands tried to touch us, we flinched. When they tried to press their bodies against ours, we shied away. We’re not those kinds of girls. We’re not normal.

“Hey,” Genevieve growls. “Fuck you.”

“I wouldn’t fuck you if you paid me,” one of the guys laughs.

My chest aches and I put the drink I have in my hand down and turn, shoving through the crowd of people to get away. The moment I feel the fresh air hit my face; I breathe it in. My entire body is weak and wobbly, letting me know I’m at the end of my rope. I just want to go back. It doesn’t matter how much they try to tell me I don’t need William, they’re wrong.

“Hi.”

I turn and see a young man from the group standing beside me. He’s got shaggy brown hair, brown eyes, and he’s about six foot tall and lean.

“Hi,” I murmur.

“I’m sorry about what they did to you all in there.”

Is he really? I doubt it.

“I’m just going home,” I say.

“Listen,” he says, stepping in front of me. “I’m truly sorry. They can be assholes.”

I stare at him, and he seems genuine.

“It’s ok,” I whisper.

“Will you let me make it up to you? Come and get a coffee with me?”

I hesitate, I really don’t want to go and do anything but go home and curl into my bed. But we’re being encouraged to live as normally as possible. At least, that’s what Mary says.

“O-Ok. Maybe just one.”

He beams and points over the road. “There’s one right there, your friends can find you when they’re done.”

I nod and follow him over to the small, quaint coffee shop. We order and take a seat on the small rounded table outside. I run my fingertips over the red and white-checkered table covering.

“So, tell me about yourself?”

I look up at him. “Um, well, my name is Emelyn.”

“That’s nice,” he smiles. “I’m Tim.”

“Ah, ok.”

“What do you do for a living, Emelyn?”

“I...nothing right now.”

He nods, looking a little confused. “That’s ok. What do you do for fun?”

“Um, well, I enjoy the beach.”

“Oh me too,” he says. “I used to go there all the time when I was a child.”

For the next hour, Tim goes on and on about himself. I’m uncomfortable and I’m struggling to find any enjoyment at all. Tim is self-centered and plain.

It only makes me realize just how in depth and beautiful William is.

And just how much I miss him.

Week Three

“She’s depressed,” I whisper to Reign.

We’re staring at Number Twelve, who is slowly but surely sinking. She’s withdrawn from us all, sleeping most of the day and rarely eating. She hardly speaks and when she does it’s in one-word answers. I don’t know how to heknoonlp her or what to do. She’s closing in on herself, and I feel as though we’re losing her.

“I don’t know what to do,” Reign whispers back.

“Neither do I.”

I sigh, feeling helpless. The past two and a half weeks have been long and draining. We’re barely getting by. We see Mary often, and even though she’s helping us to make sense of our lives, we feel like we don’t just fit in. Everything we do, we’re treated differently. People look at us like we’re strange, like we’re not one of them.