Skeletons

Chapter 19

Lockwood collapses on the floor next to me, leaning his back against the wall. George paces around the room, while Lucy sits down in the chair in front of my father's desk.

My chair.

"Kat, care to explain?"

"Just give me a moment, George."

I pinch the bridge of my nose, and lay back on the hardwood floor. I take a few calming breaths, before sitting back up. My eyes land on George, who's looking at me expectantly, with his arms crossed.

"So...this isn't my friend's house."

"Really? That's it. That's all you have to say for yourself?"

He looked down at me, shaking his head. I looked down at the floor, suddenly interested in the scratched wood.

"I just wanted them gone."

My voice comes out small and quiet. George sighs, dropping his arms against his sides, loudly. Tears welled up in my eyes.

"Why did you lie?"

"I don't know. Lockwood said no more pet projects and I didn't want it to seem like that. And I—I thought that maybe if I pretended it was a real case then you guys would help me."

"Why wouldn't we help you? You're our friend."

"I don't know! Okay? I thought that you would hate me once you guys found out the truth about them...about me."

"The truth? Does it have anything to do with why they were so angry?"

I don't say anything. I get up and start pacing around the room. If I tell them, my fears might actually come true. But, they know too much already. If I don't tell them, they'll hate me anyway. I chew on my nails, nervously, as they watch me expectantly.

"Kat, how did your parents really die?"

I stop and curse George for being so intuitive. I stand there for a moment, going back and forth in my mind.

"Katherine, you don't have to tell us if you don't want to."

Lockwood looks at me with sincerity. I give him a smile that doesn't quite reach my eyes. My resolve cracks under his gaze, and I sigh, running my fingers through my hair.

"No, no. I need to."

I sit down next to Lockwood, leaning against the wall. I tilt my head back and close my eyes.

"It wasn't an accident."

I pull my head up, opening my eyes to look down at my hands that we're playing with the zipper of my jacket.

"My whole life, since the day I could walk, I was forced to train. To be as good an agent as they were. To live up to the Archer name."

"You're the daughter of Henry and Grace Archer. How did I not see it before?"

I nod at George's realization. I swallow before continuing.

"Where most kids had friends and toys, I had books and rapiers. Everything I did was controlled and decided by them, and they were very intense. I was punished when I messed up, and even when I didn't. They were harsh and ruthless. Nothing I did was ever good enough."

I watch as Lucy inspects the restraints on the chair she is sitting in. She studies them for a minute before a look of hesitance crosses her face.