She gloated. I could see it in her expression, the way her eyes looked into mine silently saying, I won. She didn’t care about any of us. She only cared about herself. How could I have not seen the truth for the last three and a half years? How could I have trusted Rachel and not realized she is a monster?

I have to find answers.

But I’m scared, too.

I’m on my own.

No one wants to tell the truth.

I’m heartbroken.

I hate myself. I hate my sisters. What is loyalty when they want you to do the wrong thing?

I don’t blame Alexa. She was so out of it that night, and she has someone more important to worry about. She would have come with me to Payson if she weren’t so pregnant and throwing up every morning. She’s scared about the baby, about being a single mom, and I don’t want to add to that. None of this was her fault. She said when I had proof she would back me up. But how can she when she doesn’t remember anything that happened the night Adele died?

I can’t live like this anymore. Damn Lucas Vega for reminding me that there are people out there who loved Adele.

Maybe it was spending winter break with my baby sister who has always, 100% of the time, done the right thing. She would be the first to say she’s not perfect, but I don’t see it. She is kind, she is truthful, she is sweet and loving and smart and helpful. I was going to tell her what happened to Adele and seek her advice, but I didn’t have the courage. And I knew exactly what she would have said.

She’d have told me to come forward. Because it is the right thing to do. I can practically hear her voice: “Better late than never, Candy Cane.” She’s the only person I ever allow to call me Candy, a nickname I hate. But Chrissy says it with love. I miss her so much.

I hate that I’m going to disappoint her. My parents, sure, but mostly my little sister who always looked up to me, when truthfully, I looked up to her because she is a better person than I could ever hope to be.