Chapter 5: SISTER'S QUESTIONS
The knock came three hours later.
I'd been lying on my bed, staring at the ceiling, running through scenarios. Neil's possible responses. Ways to establish the new order without burning the house down—literally or figuratively. The caloric math of maintaining enough energy to defend myself while not bankrupting Billy's meager savings on food.
The knock was soft. Hesitant. Not Neil's style.
I opened the door to find Max standing in the hallway, arms crossed over her chest, chin lifted in defiance. The posture was pure armor—defensive stance for someone expecting attack. Her eyes were red-rimmed, like she'd been crying, but her jaw was set hard.
"What the hell was that?" she demanded.
"Keep your voice down."
"Don't tell me what to do." But she lowered her volume anyway. "That thing with your hands. Neil's wrist is blistered. I saw it when he was getting ice from the freezer. What did you do to him?"
I stepped back from the doorway. "Come in. Close the door."
She hesitated. The war on her face was obvious—curiosity versus survival instinct. She'd spent enough time in this house to know that closed doors with Billy behind them usually meant pain.
"I'm not going to hurt you," I said. "I just don't want Neil hearing this."
Another moment of hesitation. Then she slipped through the doorway and pulled the door shut behind her. She stayed pressed against it, one hand on the knob, ready to bolt.
Smart kid.
I sat down on the edge of my bed, putting distance between us. Making myself smaller, less threatening. All the body language I could remember from corporate training about de-escalation, applied to a conversation with a thirteen-year-old who thought I was a monster.
"Something's different about me," I said. "Recently. I don't know exactly why or how, but I woke up a few days ago and things had changed."
"Changed how?"
I held up my palm. Concentrated. The fire came easier now—just a small flame, three inches tall, dancing on my skin like a candle. Orange light flickered across Max's face as her eyes went wide.
She didn't scream. Didn't run. Just stared at the flame with her mouth slightly open, processing the impossible.
"Holy shit," she whispered.
"Yeah."
"You're like—that's actual fire. On your hand."
"Yeah."
"Does it hurt?"
"No." I closed my fist, snuffing the flame. "Doesn't burn me. Just... exists. Like it's part of me now."
Max stayed pressed against the door, but some of the tension had left her shoulders. Fear was giving way to fascination. "How long have you been able to do that?"
"Since yesterday morning. That's what I mean—something changed. I woke up and I could feel it inside me. The heat. Took me most of the day to figure out how to control it."
"That's where you were? When you disappeared?"
"Found an abandoned lot. Somewhere I could practice without anyone seeing."
She was quiet for a long moment. Her eyes dropped to my hands, then back to my face. I could practically see her brain working, trying to fit this information into her understanding of the world.
"You're a freak," she said finally.
"Probably."
"No, I mean—" She shook her head. "That came out wrong. I just... this is insane. You have actual superpowers. Like a comic book."
"Something like that."
"And you used them on Neil."
"He was going to hit your mom."
The words hung in the air between us. Max's expression shifted—something complicated moving behind her eyes. She'd watched her stepfather hurt people for years. Watched her mother accept it. Watched Billy become a weapon Neil aimed at others. Now the weapon had turned.
"Why?" she asked. "You've never cared before. You've never—" She stopped, swallowed hard. "You've been just as bad as him. Worse, sometimes."
I didn't have an answer for that. Not one I could give her. The truth—that I wasn't the Billy she knew, that I was someone else entirely wearing his face—wasn't something I could explain. Not yet. Maybe not ever.
"I told you," I said instead. "Something changed. I woke up different. I don't know how else to explain it."
"That's not an explanation. That's a cop-out."
"It's the truth."
She studied me. Really looked, the way people do when they're trying to see through a mask. I let her look. Whatever she saw, it had to be better than what she expected.
"You scared him," she said finally. "Neil. I've never seen him scared before."
"Good."
"He's going to try something. Get back at you somehow. He doesn't let people win."
"Let him try."
Max chewed her lip. The defensive posture was almost entirely gone now—she stood normally, arms uncrossed, weight balanced. Still by the door, still ready to run, but no longer expecting immediate attack.
"If you're lying," she said, "if this is some kind of trick, some new game you're playing—"
"It's not."
"I'm serious. If you go back to being the way you were—"
"I won't."
"You can't know that."
She was right. I couldn't guarantee anything about the future. I barely understood what had happened to me or why. But I could guarantee intent. I could guarantee that whatever I'd become, it wasn't going to be the abusive asshole who'd made her life hell for the past two years.
"I'm not going to let Neil hurt anyone in this house," I said. "Not you, not your mom. That's not a trick. That's not a game. That's just how it is now."
Max held my gaze. Thirteen years old, suspicious and scared and desperate to believe. "Why should I trust you?"
"You shouldn't. Not yet. I haven't earned it." I shrugged. "But I will."
She stood there for another long moment. Processing. Deciding. Then she nodded—a single sharp motion, more acknowledgment than agreement.
"The fire thing is actually kind of cool," she said. "In a creepy, impossible way."
Almost a compliment. I felt something unfamiliar in my chest—warmth that had nothing to do with flames. "Thanks."
She opened the door. Paused. "You're still weird."
"Noted."
"And I'm not calling you brother or anything. That's not happening."
"Wasn't expecting it."
"Good." She stepped into the hallway. "Night, weirdo."
The door closed behind her.
I sat on the bed and breathed. That had gone better than expected. Not trust—not real trust—but the first crack in the wall between us. A foundation to build on.
My stomach growled, louder than before. The fire demonstration had cost something. I'd need to eat tomorrow, find some way to fuel this body that didn't involve burning through Billy's savings.
But that was tomorrow's problem. Tonight I'd won two victories: Neil backing down and Max talking to me like a human being.
Progress.
Note:
Please give good reviews and power stones itrings more people and more people means more chapters?
My Patreon is all about exploring 'What If' timelines, and you can get instant access to chapters far ahead of the public release.
Choose your journey:
Timeline Viewer ($6): Get 10 chapters of early access + 5 new chapters weekly.
Timeline Explorer ($9): Jump 15-20 chapters ahead of everyone.
Timeline Keeper ($15): Get Instant Access to chapters the moment I finish writing them. No more waiting.
Read the raw, unfiltered story as it unfolds. Your support makes this possible!
👉 Find it all at patreon.com/Whatif0