It was Saphira’s fault that her parents were dead. She hadn’t directly been involved in their murders, but she’d taken actions that resulted in their deaths. She wasn’t upset that they were dead. It was conflicting and confusing. If it weren’t for her stupid feelings, she’d still be living miserably at the farm, with a father who made her feel stupid and unloved, constantly fighting with her siblings for affection. Maybe her feelings had saved her, in the end. She’d hated it at the farm. It was nearly as frightening as living on her own. Saphira was seventeen years old, and had been living with Hannah for quite a few months. She didn’t hate it here, but Hannah was bossy and petty, and Saphira was opinionated.

People were liars. Saphira’s father had told her this many times, and she never believed him. Orion spewed lots of bullshit. When it came to his knowledge of other people, he was eerily accurate. People were liars. People were self-serving and uncaring, using others for their own satisfaction, tossing them aside afterwards. It probably didn’t matter much what other people wanted. Saphira had never been the type to try and make others happy.

Hannah hadn’t changed much. She worked full-time as a retail sales associate, and had a new boyfriend who spent far too much time at the apartment. Still, Saphira couldn’t have survived on her own, and Hannah had given her someplace to live. Hannah was annoying. Saphira’s mother used to say they were too much alike to get along.

Secrets were hard to keep. Even the smallest ones weighed on you, and if you had enough secrets, they’d eventually become too heavy to carry. Saphira knew it was important to have someone in her life she could confide in. She’d never really had this, and regretted this. Since the death of Kezia, she’d attempted to reconcile with some of her siblings, but this wasn’t something that could be achieved overnight.

Saphira hadn’t known things would happen the way they did. Like most people, she acted in her own self-interest, and trusted people she shouldn’t.

Hannah was in the bathroom, putting on her makeup for work. She always took too long. Saphira’s mother had shown her how to put on makeup, because a lady should always look proper and presentable when leaving the house. Saphira had been taught to put effort into her appearance: to look pretty, never curse, be obedient, and never interrupt a man. She wasn’t good at it. Her mother once said she wasn’t a very good lady. Saphira didn’t dream of being a housewife or a caregiver. Men should take care of themselves. Children shouldn’t be forced upon women who don’t care for them.

“Do you need to leave soon?”

Although she lived with Hannah, Saphira knew next to nothing about the girl. They’d argued a lot growing up, and barely spoke now. Hannah didn’t look at her, but concentrated on perfecting her eyeliner. There was a conversation that needed to be had: that had needed to be had for months. It would end badly, like most conversations the sisters had.

“Why?”

“I don’t care if you hate me forever,” said Sebastian, “I saved you. That place wasn’t a home. Those people didn’t deserve you.”

Saphira’s father always said some people were good, and some were evil. Saphira wasn’t sure she believed this anymore. She used to think Orion was the best man on the planet. Most kids probably thought this about their parents. People were good, but everyone had the potential for evil, and most people didn’t become this way overnight. Sometimes people committed evil for good reasons. Sometimes the best people could be broken down into the most unforgiving. Her relationship with Sebastian had taught her a lot, and it made her feel uncertain. Even after what he’d done, she couldn’t hate him. He was cunning and sneaky, and he’d accomplished something many people had wanted to do over the years.

“I have to tell you something.”

She should have said it months ago. Hannah wouldn’t want to hear it. She looked at Saphira with narrowed eyes, bright and lined with black. “What?” Most of Hannah’s younger siblings would have shrunk under her stare, and Hannah knew this. It was how she’d gotten her way so often over the years. Saphira didn’t shrink. Hannah was far less important than she believed herself to be. “I swear, Saphira, if you did something bad, I’ll kick you out.”

Saphira wasn’t a child. She’d collected enough income and skills by now to live on her own. There was a reason she’d waited so long to come clean. She didn’t fear Hannah. After living with Orion, she feared nothing. “I’m the one who let Sebastian inside when everyone was asleep.” She’d had time to regret. The time for this was over. There were no more regrets to be had.

In the past, Saphira disliked Sebastian. He tried too hard to be friendly, and acted as though he’d lived with the family all of his life. He’d been coming around since she was little. At first, Sebastian was just another older brother, and Saphira already had far too many of those. But he kept coming around, and she eventually got used to him. Saphira had had a lot of time to wonder about his motives. She had sisters who were older, more attractive, and more charismatic. None of this had mattered. Sebastian had chosen her to focus on, using compliments and attention to gain her affection. Even months after his crimes, Saphira still wondered if he’d ever been interested in her at all.

Hannah stared at her, her fingers still frozen in front of her face, locked around a tube of eyeliner. She breathed deeply and spoke calmly, but it was the same forced calmness her mother used to use. “You let him inside to do what?”

It had started as innocently as any other relationship. Sebastian had asked if they could spend time together without the distraction and noise of other children. And Saphira, starved for love and attention, had suggested he come over after dark. At first they sat and talked; Saphira confided in Sebastian about her conflicted feelings toward her father, and Sebastian told her about his hopes for the future. He’d been a boy with dreams and ambition. Now, he was just a nameless face behind bars.

Hannah put her makeup down. “To do what, Saphira?”

At some point, the innocence of their relationship had gotten boring. Saphira hadn’t been persuaded, and she hadn’t felt pressured. Rules were made to be broken. You couldn’t expect the child of overprotective parents not to rebel. Without a bedroom to herself, Saphira had to get creative. She’d used the bathroom as an escape, but she’d had to be quiet, and she’d had to be careful. Sometimes, late at night, she’d take a shower, using the water to drown out the sounds of sex. She was secretive, and Sebastian was always gone before sunrise.

I killed him for you. I killed him because I love you. Now you and all your siblings can be free.

She’d loved him. At least, she’d believed this to be true at some point. It was hard now to know for certain. Maybe she’d only loved the attention. It didn’t matter now. She loved him, and he threw away his whole life just so she could be free.

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It was warm. Once in a while, Saphira received phone calls from prison. She looked forward to these, even though she shouldn’t have.

“Oh my god.” Hannah wrinkled her nose, looking a lot like her mother. “You whore. You disgusting, dirty little whore.” Hannah pretended she was perfect. Pointing out the flaws of others seemed to make her feel powerful. It was easy to pretend you were perfect. Saphira could do it, too. “It’s your fault they’re dead. You told him to do it.”

The worst part about betrayal was that it never came from strangers. Saphira never knew what Sebastian was planning. He looked her in the face to tell her he loved her. He spent months sitting in front of her, talking. When her father turned up dead, Saphira had no idea it was coming. “Even if I did, it’s not like you cared about them anyway. Nobody was sad about it.” Saphira hadn’t really mourned her father. Mostly, she mourned the idea of him, and the experiences she’d missed out on. It brought shame to admit that death gave you relief. Grief was a complicated process. Saphira didn’t understand how she could miss someone who had made her feel miserable.

It was easy to fight with Hannah. She was uptight, and not hard to offend. Since moving out, Hannah had become a little less of a bitch, but change took time. She wore her hair in a bun for work, even though it made her look like a middle-aged woman. “Just because you were an ungrateful child doesn’t mean we all were.” Hannah pushed past her, too roughly. “I’ll have you know that while you were busy being a slut, I was respecting my elders and being a good daughter.”

Saphira let out a snort. “Being a good daughter? You mean being a brainwashed robot. That’s all you ever were.” It was pathetic, really. Hannah hadn’t always been a fraud. She’d gotten so caught up with pleasing her father that she’d forgotten who she actually was as a person. “You don’t have to try to please Dad anymore, Hannah. He’s buried six feet under, where he belongs.”

She hadn’t planned on staying long. Hannah had given her a start, helped her get used to adult life, but Saphira was far too independent to live with someone else all of her life - especially someone like Hannah. Her sister scoffed, adjusting the collar of her work shirt in the hall mirror. “Let me guess. You got Sebastian to kill Dad, and then you fucked him and laughed about it.”

Hannah never cursed. Instead, she scolded her siblings for doing it.

“Do you really think I’d do that, Hannah?”

“I don’t know.” God, she was so melodramatic. She gave Saphira a wounded look, stuffing her phone into the side pocket of her purse. “I don’t even know who you are anymore. I’m disgusted just being in the same room as you.”

Saphira rolled her eyes. “You’re so dramatic. You act like you’ve never done stupid shit in your life. You’re not perfect either, you know.” Some days, living with Hannah was unbearable. Like most of her older brothers, Hannah treated Saphira like she was a stupid child. It wasn’t entirely her fault. Kids were taught how to behave, after all. Saphira often found it strange that some of her siblings were so different from her, despite being raised in the same environment, with the same beliefs. She wasn’t gullible enough to believe no one ever snuck out. She wouldn’t be surprised if - like herself - some of her siblings had snuck someone in.

Sebastian didn’t kill Alma. This is what he claimed, and Saphira believed him. She wasn’t stupid. Anybody else would say otherwise. “I never wanted any of your siblings to get hurt,” Sebastian said, the day before he was sent to prison, “You have to believe me, Saphira. I loved Kezia. I loved all of you. I told him not to touch her.”

Once, during a phone conversation with Sebastian, Saphira asked why he framed Asher. “If you love all of us so much,” she’d said, “then why did you try to get him blamed for it?”

Hannah huffed. “I’ve never done anything stupid.” She was late for work. She was full of shit. You could only live in denial for so long before all your mistakes caught up to you. “I’m leaving. Don’t you dare be here when I get home.”

It was only supposed to be Orion and Lillian. In the beginning, Sebastian enlisted the help of Jude to save his own skin. With Sebastian in charge of orchestrating, and Jude in charge of carrying out the murders, they seemed like the perfect duo. Only Jude had plans of his own, and he went rogue, so that even Sebastian was blindsided. It was hard to fool the ringleader. When Sebastian was arrested, Jude changed his name and went undercover, and nobody knew when he’d turn up. Saphira didn’t know Jude well. He was a man she used to attend church with, and who rarely spoke to her, but whom Sebastian seemed to be good friends with. That was the thing about the word “seemed”. It was easy to pretend. Maybe Sebastian had been pretending all along.

The pills were meant for her father. Orion was the one drinking the juice, a late-night refresher that he’d forgotten to put away before going to bed. Sebastian knew Saphira’s father enjoyed fruit juice. After luring the man out of bed, he’d put the crushed pills into Orion’s glass, hoping he’d become easier to control, easier to kill without a fight. But Asher liked fruit juice too, and he’d assumed the glass to be his own - especially in the middle of the night, when it was dark and he was tired.

Saphira was home the night of her father’s death - though she wasn’t in bed, like she was meant to be. It was very late, and Sebastian had just left to return home, knowing what would happen if Saphira’s parents noticed him. It was hard to imagine her father scolding the boy, even if he did something like stay the night. If it were up to Orion, Sebastian could have replaced any of his own sons. Sebastian had woken him by throwing pebbles at his bedroom window; Orion had probably assumed this to be an animal. Jude had drugged Asher that night - dragging him around like a rag doll, leading him outside, so that when Orion’s body was found, there was a large footprint on his back directly matching the tread of Asher’s sneaker.

Why didn’t you turn yourself in? Why did you let an innocent boy take the fall for what you did?

She could have told the truth. She could have turned him in. Instead, she would have let an innocent boy spend the rest of his life behind bars.

Jude had weapons: guns, knives, whatever he could get his hands on. Sebastian was a killer, but he was also barely an adult, and easy to control by those who threatened his life.

“What if I am?” Saphira had to work that evening. She never worked during school hours. “You gonna kick me out? Good luck paying all the bills and rent without me.” Hannah was all bark and no bite. Saphira learned this about her years ago. “Relax, drama queen. I don’t want to live with you anyway.”

No one appreciates you here. You go out of your way to get things done around the house, and no one even thanks you.

“I should have never trusted Jude,” said Sebastian, handcuffed in a jail cell, looking more uncertain than Saphira had seen him before, “it wasn’t supposed to happen like this.”

Murder was never justified. She shouldn’t have missed him. She should have shunned him like the rest of the community, like every other brainwashed neighbour who thought Orion was the best man on earth. She knew what Sebastian did was wrong. Everybody knew that. But while everyone else scolded and ostracized him, Saphira couldn’t help but feel grateful. They say you shouldn’t celebrate a person’s death, even if the person was cruel and destructive. Sometimes, people were truly worth more dead than alive.

Saphira didn’t remember when she first developed a crush on Sebastian. Usually, she was in control of her feelings, and she was proud of this fact. He spent the same amount of time around all the children - so why had it been her who fell for him, and not one of her sisters? Sebastian would do little things: thank her for dinner, or point out the attention she’d paid to cleaning the kitchen, or make sure she knew he was listening when she spoke. It was hard to understand why things happened the way they did. Saphira’s father used to tell her she was naive. Maybe he was right. Maybe she was an asinine child, not knowledgeable about the real world, easily swayed by people older and smarter than her. Saphira would have denied this until the day she died.