by K.N. Lee
Table of Contents
Title Page
THICKER THAN BLOOD | Part One
Part Two
Part Three
Part One
Part Two
Bonus Material
Author Bio:
Titles by K.N. Lee
THICKER THAN BLOOD
Part One
ANOTHER NIGHTMARE WAS interrupted by the screams coming from the other end of the old house. Phoebe squeezed her eyes shut to block out the faint cries she heard echoing down the hallway.
Like a ghost, those cries haunted her.
They kept her awake for hours every night. Dark circles had formed beneath her large blue eyes. Her skin was already pale enough. Phoebe didn’t need such blemishes tainting her looks.
“Phoebe,” the voice screeched.
The moans of pain couldn’t be ignored. Phoebe sat up as the screams vibrated down the hallway. She grumbled and glared at her door. The only traces of light in her room were that of the moonlight spilling through the maroon drapes of her bay window.
This was the room she had grown up in.
Twenty years old and still living at home. Most college students would have jumped at the chance to move out into the dorms and fully experience college life.
Not Phoebe. She feared she’d be stuck in that old, creaky house forever. She grimaced. The bitterness of her life was almost too much to deal with.
Her parents had been dead for two years. So, there was plenty of privacy for Phoebe and her dying twin sister.
She yawned and tried to motivate herself. She needed to go and check on Tara. No one else was around to help. All things rested on Phoebe’s shoulders now.
Angrily, she ripped the covers off of her body and stepped onto the cold wood floor.
“It would have been convenient to have my slippers near the bed and not beside the door,” she said to herself. She found herself talking to herself more and more each day. It was all she had to keep herself sane. She could no longer stomach the sight of her sister.
“Phoebe!”
Phoebe felt her hair stand on end. Her sister’s horrified cry made her suck in a cold breath. She hurried and threw her cotton robe on to keep out the icy wind that swept in through her window. The drapes danced with the howling of the wind and her head snapped toward the bedroom door.
She stood there and waited, hoping that the cries would end. She didn’t want to go. The thought of what she would see churned her stomach.
“Phoebe!” Tara, her twin sister screamed.
Although Phoebe had grown used to her sister’s cries of pain and sorrow, there was something new in her voice. She took off toward the door knob, disregarding the slippers that waited for her.
She swung the door open and ran into the dark hallway. Her guilt for keeping her sister in the room farthest away from hers overwhelmed her as she ran as fast as her thin legs would take her. Her footsteps pounded on the floorboards like a drum and she nearly slammed into Tara’s closed door.
Phoebe snatched the door open and looked around. The darkness smothered her and the smell of blood overwhelmed her nostrils. Sweat and blood mixed to such a degree that made her nauseous.
“Tara?” Phoebe’s hand searched for the light switch. Her fingertips finally found the switch and the flood of light blinded both of them. As she squinted, Phoebe’s hand went to her mouth in utter terror when she saw the blood staining her sister's gown.
Tara stood there. Thin. Pale. Tara’s hands were covered in the redness. She looked absolutely horrid.
Ghastly, Phoebe thought as she stared.
The cancer was merciless in its assault against her sister.
Phoebe rushed to her. She pulled the gown up from her legs. The cloth clung to Tara’s legs, utterly soaked.
“It’s gotten worse.” Tara cried out before doubling over in pain. She squeezed her eyes shut, praying that the pain would subside.
“It...feels...like knives, stabbing me!”
Phoebe didn’t know what to do. She looked over onto Tara’s nightstand, seeing all of the medication bottles neatly placed and organized.
Pain killers, antibiotics, cancer meds, even vitamins. They had tried everything, and still, they could not cure Tara. Phoebe pulled the gown over Tara’s head and tossed it into the hamper.
She snatched the sheets off of Tara’s bed and tossed them as well. Phoebe couldn’t bring herself to look into her sister’s face. She knew she wouldn’t be able to keep it together if she looked into her eyes. The face they shared looked so different after months of battling the greatest foe they would ever be faced with. The doctors had given up, but Phoebe had refused. She vowed to care for her sister no matter what.
Guilt filled her veins. She could have done better. She feared to admit that she had given up on her sister as well.
Tara’s cold hand clamped weakly onto Phoebe’s shoulder. “Phoebe. Look at me.”
Her voice was hollow, distant, as though she were already fading right before her. In nothing but her blood-soaked underwear, Tara slowly sat down on the floor at the bed’s side.
Phoebe finally had the courage to look straight at her. The tears choked her, rushing all at once like a broken spout. Like a baby she sobbed, seeing her sister’s frail body, her thin face, and her sporadic traces of blonde hair.
They had once been the beauties of Atlanta. Beauty pageants, cheerleading competitions, boys vying for their attention. Life had been good. The future had seemed so bright.
Now, they were the twins the world had forgotten. Friends stopped showing up shortly after Tara lost her hair and her appetite for life. Only the families’ old housekeeper checked on them early each morning before cleaning a house that didn’t even need it anymore.
“I can’t do this,” Tara said weakly.
Phoebe slumped down on the floor beside her. She nodded. “I know.” She felt helpless. She remembered the days when they were children. Phoebe was the older twin, the one who felt obligated to protect and watch over her sister.
Sometimes, she was certain that she felt some of Tara’s pain. She would wake up in tears most nights.
“I know,” Phoebe whispered.
Tara reached for her sleeping pills. “Can I?”
Phoebe pursed her lips. As she looked into Tara’s dull blue eyes, she saw death staring back at her. It made her shudder.
She knew exactly what her sister meant.
Phoebe looked at the pill bottle and back at her disintegrating sister’s face. Her shoulders slumped.
This wasn’t the first time Tara had asked. Before, Phoebe had been vehemently against it. She had never been a quitter. She would not let Tara give up.
That girl had died months ago, when she had clung desperately to hope, to optimism. The cold, harsh, reality stood unwavering before them.
“Please, Phoebe.” Tara shook the bottle before her. The clink of pills filled the silence of that stifling room.
Phoebe looked away.
“I can’t do this anymore! We tried it your way, and we failed!” she cried, mucous dripping from her nose. She wiped her face of the salty tears.
“Just let me go!”
Phoebe shook with her sister’s words. The echo bounced off the bare walls. She stared blankly.
Her mouth opened to protest. Nothing came out.
She closed her mouth and swallowed. Her throat felt dry.
Tara’s didn’t blink. She waited.
Phoebe did something she hadn’t expected.
She nodded.
Tara gasped when Phoebe took the bottle from her sister’s hands and
twisted the top off.
Phoebe poured about a quarter of the bottle into Tara’s tiny hand. She handed her the bottle of water that sat beside the lamp on the nightstand.
Tara stared at her for a moment, sucking her tears up. “Thank you, Phoebe,” she said and poured the handful into her mouth. She gulped down half the bottle of water.
To Tara’s surprise, Phoebe poured the remaining contents of the bottle into her own mouth. And wrenched the water bottle from Tara’s hand.
“I’m coming with you!” Phoebe said, her voice cracking after she swallowed the pills.
Phoebe didn’t think it was even possible for
Tara’s face to flush even more. Like looking into a mirror they stared at each other.
Tara nodded and hugged her sister close. All Phoebe felt were bones. Tara was so cold.
“You didn’t have to do that,” Tara said between sobs.
Phoebe sniffled. “What else is there for me?
I’ve been thinking about it for a while now. I won’t let you go on this journey alone. I will always be by your side...” Phoebe held Tara’s hand. Her voice trailed as her heavy eyelids closed.
Part Two
HER FEET WERE wet. She was barefoot and cold. The wind whipped her long blonde hair around her face and the sound of rushing water was deafeningly loud in her ears.
Phoebe opened her eyes. Something wasn’t right. Her heart sped. She saw nothing but darkness. She started to hyperventilate as she touched her eyelids to make sure that her eyes were indeed open.
She flinched when she felt her wet eyeball. A cry of panic escaped her lips. Everywhere she turned there was nothing but a thick black film over her eyes. She ripped at her eyes until they were raw and screamed in frustration.
“Why is this happening?” Phoebe cried. “Can I wake up now? Please?” Her voice sounded tiny and weak, as though she stood in an open field.
“Phoebe!”
Phoebe paused. Her ears perked up. She tilted her head to where she heard the voice. It sounded like Tara.
“Tara?”
Phoebe heard water splash as Tara ran to her.
“You’re here!” Tara squealed excitedly.
Phoebe was confused by her sister’s enthusiasm. “Where is here?” she asked hesitantly. She wasn’t sure she wanted to know. A warning tugged at her stomach, making her feel anxious and ill.
She wanted to see Tara’s face. She wanted to see where they were. A breeze swept through and nearly knocked her to her feet.
Tara giggled, hugging her. Phoebe blinding reached out and returned the hug. “I don’t know! But it’s beautiful!” Tara replied. “My god. It’s the most beautiful place I’ve ever seen.”
Phoebe clung to her sister, afraid that if she moved she might fall into a bottomless pit. Her sister’s presence only mildly calmed her anxiety.
“What is beautiful, Tara?” Phoebe gripped her sister’s shoulders. “There’s nothing here but black darkness and shadows!”
“What are you babbling about?” Tara chimed. “It’s amazing. There’s the most beautiful blue sky without a cloud in sight! The water is so crystalline that I can see silver fish swimming beneath the waterfall. The grass is so green it looks like Mr. Boswell’s yard. You know the one he pays hundreds of dollars getting treated with fertilizers and stuff...”
“Stop it!” Phoebe shouted, cutting her sister off.
There was silence.
“Why?” Tara asked, sounding disappointed.
“Because you’re making it all up Tara! There’s nothing here!” She was angry. Jealous. She wanted to see what Tara saw. Why did she have to be blind?
“You’re wrong, Phoebe,” she paused. There was silence as Tara observed her sister’s face. Phoebe’s eyes were glossy as if a film covered them.
Tara scrunched up her nose as she waved her hand before Phoebe’s eyes. “You really can’t see it, can you?”
Phoebe nodded. “I think I’ve gone blind, Tara.” The more she tried to see around her, the more frantic she became. “I can’t see anything.”
“Shh,” Tara said and stopped to listen. “Oh, Phoebe! They’re calling us, singing to us,” she exclaimed grabbing Phoebe’s hand. “Let’s go!”
Phoebe didn’t have a chance to protest as her sister pulled her along too quickly for her comfort. “I can’t see, Tara! Slow down before I fall!”
“Trust me!” Tara shouted back. Her sweet voice was light and full of happiness that Phoebe hadn’t heard in years.
Her happiness was enough to silence her into submission. She ran as fast as she could, trying to stay with Tara. She clutched her tiny hand like it was a lifesaver as if she might drown if she let go.
“Ok,” she breathed. She trusted her sister. It was all she had left.
Tara began to sing as she ran, along to whatever melody she heard, but Phoebe heard nothing but her sister’s voice. Being unable to see was unnerving. Being unable to hear what her sister heard was frightening.
Phoebe’s stomach was in knots. She wanted to vomit.
Tiny rocks stung the soles of her feet as they flew through what felt like winding roads. The crisp air swooshed past her ears. Phoebe had to know where they were. She couldn’t live an eternity, blind to the beauty Tara claimed surrounded them.
Her stomach lurched forward when they stopped abruptly. She knew they were at a cliff, she heard the stones fall off the edge as they skidded to a stop. The silence that followed was unbearable.
“They sing,” Tara explained, her voice full of awe. She gave Phoebe’s hand a squeeze.
“Do they?” Phoebe was annoyed. She felt cold. She was afraid. “And who are they?”
Tara hugged her tight. She buried her face in
Phoebe’s neck. Phoebe felt Tara’s warm tears run down her skin. “What’s wrong?” Phoebe asked as her fear intensified.
“Oh, Phoebe,” Tara whispered.
“What is it?” Phoebe’s eyes widened. Her sister’s tone was unnerving.
“You can’t cross here Phoebe,” she sobbed.
“You’re not supposed to be here!”
Phoebe pulled back. “Hold on a second,” she said quickly. “What are you talking about?” She suddenly felt like she was being watched by more than her sister.
“Who’s singing, Tara? Tell me!” She was on the brink of hysterics. She could feel eyes on her, all around, and it made her skin crawl with terror.
What was this mysterious place?
Tara let go of her hand and Phoebe felt an emptiness that terrified her. She felt naked and alone.
“They sing,” she heard Tara say softly, sucking up her tears. “Just for me.”
Phoebe reached out for her sister and felt her face. Her skin was warm and soft. Phoebe’s hands were the cold ones this time. She felt absolutely frigid.
Tara caught her hand and kissed it. Phoebe felt her heart pause. Then, Tara pushed her off the cliff, into the abyss that she was sure she would soon meet. Tara’s voice trailed after her.
“Go back, Phoebe. Go home!”
Part Three
PHOEBE’S EYES POPPED open with such a pain as she’d never felt. All she saw was light. Brighter than she’d ever experienced in her entire life. She tried to scream, but something was lodged in her throat.
Phoebe started to panic. The pain was unbearable.
She felt as though her entire stomach was being forced up her throat, tugged by something foreign, something devoid of any pity for her cries of pain.
Hands held her down, restraining her arms and legs as she bucked, keeping her head down and tilted. Her eyes stung with tears and she felt violated by the hands.
Why was that light so bright? She wondered.
Had she finally reached the end? Was this it?
Her vision started to clear and she stared up at the nurses and the doctor who pumped away at her stomach, trying to purge her stomach of its contents.
Her heart leaped with joy as realization flooded her. Even through the p
ain, she was glad to be alive. Glad for her second chance.
Still, Tara’s singing lingered in her mind.
EMILY SAT ON the four post bed. She clutched her doll to her chest and listened. Angry shouts filled the small house. She stared at her door with a blank look on her pale face.
The door was boarded closed, locked from the outside, and chained. She heard her mother’s screams vibrating through the house. Her mother pleaded for her father to stop.
Emily jumped when she heard something crash. The screaming stopped. She leaned forward on her bed, held her breath, and listened.
Silence.
“Mama,” she whispered. No one replied.
Emily sighed and picked up one of her dolls from her collection. Her room was incredibly clean, except for the mold that grew on her ceiling. Her bookcase was filled with old used paperbacks and broken toys. All of Emily’s porcelain dolls were stacked neatly on her bed.
She held up her newest doll and smiled. Her face was beautiful. She had blonde hair and blue eyes, such a contrast from Emily’s black hair and brown eyes. She clutched the doll to her chest and listened. She heard loud footsteps on the creaking floorboards outside her room.
Emily could smell him. Her father had been drinking. He paused outside of her door and she tensed. She could hear him breathing. She stared at the door knob waiting for him to turn it but knew that he never would. She hadn’t seen her father’s face in years, nor her mothers. The footsteps continued down the hallway and she heard a door slam.
Emily hopped off her bed and ran to the window. She caught the back of his balding head as he got into his red pickup truck and sped down the rocky driveway, headed toward town.
She stood there for a moment and watched the truck go up the hill and turn right onto the country roads. The grass and weeds were so high in the yard that it looked to Emily like a jungle.
She opened her window to a hot breeze.
Emily climbed to the ground, holding her dolls tiny arm. She had on her backpack. It was old and falling apart. She had stapled the straps back together and had sewn the zipper back in place. She began the long walk to the school in silence. She hummed to herself and to the doll and swung her along as she strolled up the driveway.
