Clarissa stared at me in horror, mouth open in shock at my news. "They let him go? Just like that?" She sat down on the couch in my living room, shifted and then stood back up. The worry rolled off her in waves and she began pacing around the room, visibly agitated.

I settled my hip against the loveseat and crossed my arms, watching my twin sister patiently. While identical in looks, my sister and I were completely different in personality. She tended to work herself up into a high state of agitation and frenzy, at times panicking to the point of not thinking clearly. I, on the other hand, had always been able to keep calm after allowing myself a few minutes of freaking out.

One of us had always needed to be able to function. This role had always fallen on me for some reason. Clarissa relied on me to be the strong one and handle things. I'd accepted the responsibility early in life. Time and again, she'd led us into one scrap or another, always in trouble. It had always been up to me to get us out of it.

Her decision to date Roger Clemmons was by far her worse one.

"You do realize wearing a hole in my floor isn't going to help anything, right?" I asked after watching for several minutes.

She stopped mid-step and pivoted to look at me with narrowed eyes. "I don't see how you can be so calm!" she exclaimed. She raked a hand through thick chestnut curls and tried to breathe through her anxiety. "It's like you don't remember that week or something."

Those words coming from my mirror image pushed me to my feet. I straightened from my spot against the loveseat and cocking my head in disbelief. "Excuse me?" I demanded, uncrossing my arms and shoving the sleeves of my shirt up above my elbows. The white lines of crisscrossing scars stood in stark contrast against my olive complexion. "Are you actu- ally serious right now, Clari?"

Hazel eyes, an exact copy of the ones I saw in the mirror every time, filled with tears and she looked away. Not quick enough to hide the guilt and shame on her face, however. She walked over to the fireplace and stared at one of the pictures on the mantle. It was one of our favorites; taken when we were counselors at a camp. It was right before everything went to hell. Her hand swept lightly over the glass and she whispered quietly, "I'm so sorry, Chloe."

"Oh, Jesus Christ!" I threw my hands up in exasperation. "Would you stop apologizing? It's been almost ten fucking years." I gestured around and made a noise. It might have been closer to a growl than a sigh. "I'm over it, okay? Now we move on."

She tossed a look over her shoulder at me. "You're over it, huh?"

I nodded. "Yeah. I am."

Clarissa snorted. "Somehow, I don't believe that." She turned back to the picture. "I don't believe it at all."

I frowned at her tone. "I don't really give a shit if you do or not," I informed her and turned to go into the kitchen. "I don't have time for this," I muttered.

She followed me and moved to the island bar, hopping up on one of the stools there. "You never answered my question. What are we going to do?"

"Well, for starters, you aren't going to date him this time," I replied drily.

She gave me a flat stare. "That was unnecessary."

I tsked. "I beg to differ. If you'd listened to me all those years ago about how there wasn't something right about him and not gone out with him to begin with..." I let the sentence trail off and the implication hung in the air between us.

The expression on her face told me the message had been received, loud and clear. I opened the fridge and grabbed the ingredients for a sandwich. The regret of not eating Ms. Kim's homemade dinner was real now with the hunger pains gnawing at me. I held out the lunchmeat to Clarissa. "You want one?"

She wrinkled her nose. "Ew. I'll pass on the animal flesh."

Not for the first time I wondered how two people who came from the same zygote could be so totally different. With an eye roll of irritation, I finished making my food. Once done and everything put away, I took a seat at the stool next to her and started eating with gusto.

"Is that really necessary?" She had spun the stool to focus a look of revulsion on me. I pulled a large chunk of ham out while I watched her from the corner of my eye. With a smirk, I popped it in my mouth and chewed loudly. "You're disgusting."

"No one's making you stay here, Your Highness," I reminded her, mouth full of sandwich.

"Ugh." Her lip curled for a moment. "Mom would have a fit if she could see you right now."

I shrugged, not really caring. "So? It's my place. I'll do what I want." I took a long drink from the soda I'd grabbed and swallowed. "If I wanna eat ice cream naked on my couch with a pet monkey, I will."

She studied me for a moment. "You know, what's sad is, I'm not really sure you're joking about that."

I grinned and wiped my mouth. "Guess we'll just have to see, huh?"

"I'd rather not," she retorted instantly with a smile before she turned serious again. "Really, Chloe...what are we going to do?"

My eyes fixed on the door to the pantry across from me while I sat, mulling over her question. Once again, my finger started tracing over the scars, ranging from my hand and up to where I could go no further under my shirt sleeve. "I don't know, Clari." I faced her and gave her a determined smile. "But we'll think of something. I promise."

***

I DRAGGED MYSELF INTO WORK THROUGH SHEER STRENGTH of will alone. An insulated mug of coffee seemed permanently attached to my hand lately. If I could have just run a line of caffeine intravenously into a vein, I would've. The late nights trying to reassure Clarissa everything would be all right were beginning to take a toll.

The familiar smell of antiseptic hit me when I walked through the door, along with the cacophony of animal noises. The racket, along with the smell, had me wincing as I made my way down the hall to my office. The passing time had done nothing to acclimate me to the smell in the small animal clinic I ran. The sounds were easier to deal with than the scents... Scents were cold and sterile and always brought back the memories I'd have preferred to forget. Memories of hospitals, doctors, pain...

I tossed my messenger bag and lightweight sweater onto a chair in the corner and sat down at my desk with a heavy sigh. Last night had been particularly bad for my twin sister. Roger's release marched ever forward and we were no closer to a way in preventing it. Mr. Hofmann had filed appeal after appeal the past five days and each one had been denied. Mom and Dad had tried to call in every favor owed to them, which were a surprisingly large number, but for once Dad's money and influence couldn't help.

The Cook County Justice System was adamant; Roger Clemmons had been rehabilitated and would be released.

I sat forward, rested my elbows on my desk and pressed my hands to my eyes. This was one time I honestly didn't know what to do. The feeling disconcerted me, left me off- kilter and unsure. I didn't like it at all.

"Miss Mason? You okay, ma'am?"

I sat up quickly at the sound of Jayden calling my name from the doorway. I glanced over at him and smiled half- heartedly. He'd started working for me a year and a half ago when his community center started an outreach program. When he'd come to me, he'd been on his way to a life of gangs, crime and eventually prison. He'd already been in trouble with the legal system several times and spent time in juvenile detention. The outreach program hoped to get through to these inner-city kids who showed potential. Jayden had been one of the few.

He'd gone through a nighttime education program and gotten his equivalency diploma and was now in college, studying to be a veterinarian himself.

"Morning, Jay," I peered up, tired smile flashing weakly across my face. "I'm fine. Just exhausted." I stood up from my chair and stretched, arms locked behind my head. The rush of blood flowing through previously tense muscles had me pausing while I caught my balance.

Jayden shook his head and shifted the files he held in his arms. "You need sleep and something besides that shit there," he said, pointing to my coffee mug. "Is that the crap from down on Third and Dawson?" At my nod he rolled his eyes. "When was the last time you actually ate real food?"

I cocked my head and pursed my lips in thought.

He shot me a bland look. "You gotta think about it, it's been too long." He frowned. "You know Mom will kick your ass if she sees you like this."

My lips twitched as I attempted to hold in a smile and I nodded. When I took Jayden on as a full-time clinic assistant, I'd somehow been adopted by his mother. The woman was a force to be reckoned with, much like my own. She was quite possibly the only thing that kept Jay as straight as he'd been before I met him.

I looked at the files he held. "Are those the ones coming in today?" I pointed at the stack.

"Yeah." He shuffled through them. "Old man Velaquez is bringing that fucking Pomeranian of his in today." He looked over at me. "Want me to give him to one of the techs?"

I nodded. There was no way I could handle dealing with the lecherous old man and his hateful little furball. Mr. Velaquez had wandering hands which always seemed to end up on inappropriate places of anatomy when around females. One day, he was going to grab hold of something on the wrong woman and get an unfortunate surprise.

We went through the rest of the upcoming appointments, assigning them and then started getting ready for the day. We walked down the hall together, checking the exam rooms and making sure the boarded pets were taken care of. I had just started prepping the procedure room for my first animal patient when I let out a mighty yawn. When I was done, I turned and saw Jay studying me.

"What?" The echo in the sterile room snapped with dismay.

He was silent for a moment, obviously debating what to say. Finally he shrugged. "I'd heard, you know...About the dude? How he's getting out?" He shook his head. "It's fucked up, Chloe. I'm sorry."

I froze and stared at him, jaw slack. After a second, I blinked in confusion. "Wait. I don't understand." I pointed at him. "How—? Why would you even know about any of this?" I was torn between feeling vulnerable and pissed, because someone else knew.

Jayden snorted a laugh. "Have you met my mama?" He waved a hand and lifted a shoulder. "When she heard some lady vet wanted to hire me, she went to the library, looked you up. Wanted to make sure you were legit and all." He scratched at his ear. "She found those articles about you and your sister."

I nodded. It made sense. When it had happened, it'd been national news. I couldn't be too upset; the woman was just protecting her son.

"How do you feel about it?" His words were gentle but his face strained with concern.

"Huh?"

"Him getting out. How do you feel about it?" he prodded while grabbing the sterilized tools.

I'd never been asked the question and wasn't sure what to say, so I went with sarcasm. "Peachy." The look I got in return told me he knew my bullshit game.

"I know some people, you know." A fire beamed in his eyes with his air of protectiveness in full form. He walked over to the cabinet filled with medications and started pulling what I'd need. "This one is the mastiff getting his teeth cleaned."

I walked over to the table and set out what I'd need and where thinking about what he'd said. "As sweet as the offer is, I think I'll have to pass."

"You sure? They could make sure he suffers too," he offered again.

I picked up the vial and syringe and shook my head. "Thanks, but no." I stabbed the needle through the capped top and began the slow draw of the serum.

"The fucker needs to pay more than he has," Jay muttered as he walked off.

I quirked an eyebrow in agreement. When I set the small glass bottle back down on the counter, the name of the medication caught my eye. Ketamine. Slowly, an idea began to form.

Jayden was right; Roger did need to pay more than he had.