I was surprised when Eveline came back into the dining hall with a first aid box in her hand.

Ezra took the first aid box from her hand, carefully disinfecting my wound before putting a band-aid on it. I didn't talk the entire time and only moved to leave the hall after he was done treating my wound.

I wasn't finished with my dinner, but my appetite was already long gone.

After getting inside my room, I couldn't stop the tears I had been fighting.

They still think of me as a murderer.

'They aren't wrong. And you know it.'

But it still damn hurt.

I heard a knock at my door. Without waiting for my permission, the door was pushed open and Stephen came in.

"Are you alright?" He asked, sitting beside me in the bed.

"Yeah. I'm sorry for dinner. You have been so kind to me by taking me in and I'm being ungrateful, throwing tantrums." I figured he was here to discipline me.

All my years of experience had taught me it's better if you accept your mistakes and apologize for them. That way the punishment is harsher.

"Will you stop apologizing to me?" Stephen sighed, resigned.

"It was insensitive of me to ask you to go to his funeral. But do you not want to go?"

I nodded, "I don't want to."

"It will be the last time you can see him. Think about it. But if you don't want to go, it's fine, too. No one will force you."

"Thanks," I said, grateful he gave me the option to choose for myself. Something that no one else did.

Stephen raised his hand and carefully caressed the bandaged portion of my forehead, "Does it hurt?"

I shook my head. It didn't hurt. I was used to pain in extreme doses. Small scratches like this didn't make a difference to me.

"Noah didn't mean what he said. He was just angry." Stephen reassured me.

But I knew better.

"Liar," My voice was just a whisper, but Stephen still heard it. He chuckled, somehow finding humor in this situation.

What's so funny?

"What's so funny?" I snarled.

Stephen narrowed his eyes at my disrespectful tone, "I just wasn't expecting you to call me out like that. But you are wrong. He was just angry. Eve and Noah still haven't overcome the loss of their parent. They are still mourning. Your insensitive comments ticked him off."

Insensitive comments?

Fucking hypocrites.

"Yes. It was my fault. I will be sure to watch my words next time." I gritted out, looking down.

Stephen sighed, again, "All I want to say is it has been hard on them, too. Seeing their only parent slowly die a painful death."

His statement made me curious, thus, I asked a little hesitantly, afraid it was still a sensitive topic for him, "How did he die?"

Thankfully, Stephen had long made his peace with their father's death, "Brain tumour."

At the thought of him suffering, my eyes glinted with dark happiness. I tried to hide it but Stephen had already noticed. He didn't comment on it but bid me goodnight and left the room.

Was I becoming a monster?

... ... ...

I felt thirsty.

I tried going back to sleep but couldn't.

Checking the time, I saw it was past midnight. Everyone must be sleeping already. I decided it was safe to get some water from the kitchen.

On my way there, I passed Eveline's room. Her door was slightly ajar, I could hear her crying from inside.

It's none of your business.

Right, I'm sure she would be more annoyed if I went inside to console her.

I had guessed right. All the lights were off. Turning on the flashlight on my phone, I grabbed a box of random ice cream from the freezer.

What was I doing? I should just drink my water and go back to sleep.

But I couldn't stop myself from grabbing two spoons and entering Eveline's room.

Her room was dark. Turning on the night light I sat beside her on the floor. She was leaning against the bed, hugging her knees, her head resting on them.

Realizing my presence, she looked up with her red-shot eyes. Shock glistened in her tear-stained face at the sight of me.

Seeing my twin cry in such a vulnerable way broke my heart.

"Do you like ice cream?" I asked, tearing the lid of the container. I was pleased when I saw it was chocolate flavour.

Eveline slowly nodded her head, unable to say anything.

I gave her one of the spoons I brought with me and put the ice cream box in my lap.

Eveline stiffly accepted it from my hand and dived her spoon into the box.

We quietly ate like that for a while. She had stopped crying and resigned to occasional sniffles.

"Did you know all the ice cream in the freezer is homemade?" Eveline said, sniffling.

"No way." That was news to me.

"Yeah, Ezra wouldn't let us eat ice cream bought from outside. So, he had the chefs prepare organic ice cream," Eveline giggled at our brother's extreme attempts, completely forgetting all her previous woes.

"Chefs?" I inquired. I didn't see any workers here.

"Mhmm. Our family owns several restaurants in the city. We order all our take-outs from there."

"Why were you crying?" I asked, putting another spoonful of ice cream in my mouth.

"I miss Dad," She whispered, the tears back in her eyes.

"It will get better," I consoled, speaking from experience.

It does get better with time.

Eveline didn't believe me instead quietly asked, "Will you really not go tomorrow?"

I looked down at my lap. The ice cream had completely melted, making me realize we were sitting there for a long time.

Not getting an answer from me, Eveline turned to look at me, "I know you hate him. And you probably won't believe me but he really did love you."

She was right.

I didn't believe her.

Would a man who loved his daughter abandon her? Leave her in a faraway land to be tortured?

He was responsible for too many of my scars. I refused to believe a man like that would be capable of loving me.

"If not for him, can you be there for me?" Eveline pleaded in a small voice.

Oh, where were you when I needed you?

"I'll think about it," I said, not wanting to break her heart with an outright rejection.

I got up to leave when my eyes fell on the photo frame placed on her bedside table.

It was a family photo. Obviously, an edited one, for our mother was photoshopped into it.

How fucking childish.

But a particular person caught my eye.

It was a picture taken on our sixth birthday. The last peaceful birthday I had.

Eveline noticed me staring at the photo, "I don't remember much from our childhood. What about you?"

"Oh, I remember them. Down to every little detail." When you keep on playing those memories in repeat inside your head, you tend to not forget them.

Eveline looked a bit disappointed when I said I remember them.

"Where is he?" I asked staring at the person sitting beside Eveline in the photo.

"Who? Oh, you mean Diego. He joined the army right after he turned eighteen." Eveline smiled at the mention of him.

Good riddance.

I hope he dies on the line of duty.

What was wrong with me?

I never had dark thoughts like this.

"Won't he be here for Dad's funeral?" I asked, curious.

"No. He doesn't even know about Dad's death yet. It's hard to contact him. Last we heard from him; he was going on a mission in Iraq." She shared sadly.

I hope it stays that way.