CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX:
EVEN IF WE BREAK

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WHEN THE YOUNGEST SULLIVAN sibling was born, Vera Sullivan was the second person to hold her — the first, of course, being their mother. Wren had retrieved the children from the waiting room the second the nurses had cleaned Maggie up and passed her into Delilah's eager arms. One-by-one, the three children appeared. First came Vera, who — at the whopping age of six years and three months — came sprinting into the room like a kid on a sugar high. The twins were curled up in Wren's arms, not yet old enough to realise they had a new baby sister. But Vera, she knew. It took just one look at the soft pink blanket, the tuft of dark hair on Maggie's head, and she was in love.

"She's pretty, mummy," she told Delilah with a gap-toothed smile. She'd lost her first tooth the night before, and despite being on her way to the hospital with contractions, Delilah had ordered Wren to first and foremost leave a five dollar note underneath Vera's favourite Cinderella pillow. Hospital bag be damned, she had growled over the phone. Five dollars, Wren! Not that Vera remembered much of this. But she did know one thing. She had a new sister to take care of. A baby that was smaller than some of her dolls! "What's her name?"

"Margaret," Delilah declared, then laughed when Vera wrinkled her nose in disgust.

"But that's granny's name!" she protested, referring to Delilah's own grandmother. "Not baby's."

"Then you can give her a nickname," Delilah said in a placating tone, tucking a strand of short brown hair behind Vera's ear. Two ruby studs glittered on each of her earlobes; earrings that Vera had worn proudly since her mum took her to get them pierced for her fifth birthday. I look just like you, mum, she had gasped while twirling in front of the mirror. Delilah was Vera's whole world and then some. To look like her was her dream come true. "A nickname everyone will know her by."

So Vera was quiet for a while and the sisters filled the silence by fussing over Margaret and trying to release the twins' death grip on Wren. They seemed afraid of the new baby, like they'd never seen one before — which, in truth, they hadn't; Wren had no children — not for a lack of trying — and most of their extended family lived too far away to visit. Then, just when Delilah was beginning to forget what she'd promised Vera, the little girl gasped and clapped her hands together excitedly.

"I know! I know!" Vera was oblivious to her mother's confused frown. "Baby's name is Maggie."

"Maggie?"

"After Maggie Simpson," Vera giggled. Of course, the latest show to hook Vera's attention was The Simpsons and for some strange reason, she adored baby Maggie the most. Before Delilah could protest, she had reached out to kiss her sister on the forehead and dreamily sighed, "Hello, my little Maggie."

And it stuck. In the early days, Delilah tried her best to stick to Margaret but even she found herself slipping sometimes. Then the twins grew old enough to talk and followed Vera's lead, the little shits they were. So Margaret became Maggie, and the rest was quick to become history.

Maggie never did think to ask where her name came from. But Vera knew. With time, things changed. Some of the siblings drifted apart, warring over opinions and interests, the trivial shit and the life-changing. But never their love for each other. When the going got tough, they always found a way to band together. Perhaps it was the loss of their mum or maybe the slow splintering of Maggie's independence, but when one Sullivan fell down the rest were there to pick them back up. For every hard moment, for every achievement. Family came first, always.

On the morning of Zeke and Dakota's graduation, the Sullivan house was in total shambles. Zeke had ripped a hole in the leg of his nicest dress pants (much to Dakota's amusement and Zeke's horror) and was on a rampage as he waited desperately for Connor to bring over one of his spare pairs. Vera had woken up Maggie and Dakota at the crack of dawn, insisting that both of them needed help with their makeup.

"But I'm not the one graduating," Maggie had whined, voice vaguely muffled by the pillow over her head. She'd only slept a few hours that night, not that Vera seemed to notice or care.

Vera merely shrugged and brandished her mascara at her like a dagger. "It's sisterly bonding, Mags. Besides, Dakota needs all the help she can get."

Three hours and a lot of name-calling, hair-pulling and death glares later, Vera sat back with a pensive frown on her face. Maggie, who was curling her own hair in the corner after doing her best to straighten Dakota's mop of waves, glanced warily in the mirror at her two sisters. Dakota, to put it nicely, looked sullen but spectacular. Vera had managed to hide the purple bags beneath her eyes with a thick layer of foundation worthy of a supermodel, then added some blush to her typically gaunt cheeks. Dakota looked... pretty, in a delicate yet jarring kind of way. All her harsh edges and scathing energy had been wrapped up in a bright purple dress they'd pulled from the back of Vera's wardrobe.

"Are you done?" she grumbled when Vera continued to sit in silence.

"I think so," the eldest sister murmured. Dakota breathed a premature sigh of relief, stretching her arms over her head as she eased out of the vanity chair Vera had dragged in from her room. Just as she went to move, Vera gasped and grabbed her chin. "No, wait—" Dakota grimaced as she applied glistening pink gloss to her lips. Now Vera was really pleased. "Okay, now I'm done."

Dakota shoved her hand away and dragged her feet over to where Maggie was watching and giggling. Gently shoving her aside, she took one look in the mirror and groaned. "I look like you!"

"Oh, I wouldn't dream of wearing that dress out in public," Vera scoffed. "Talk about outdated."

Dakota's nostrils flared then, like a dragon ready to breathe fire. Maggie was quick to place a hand on her shoulder, struggling to balance the hair curler as she held Dakota back at the same time. "Say thank you, Vera."

Dakota sighed. "Thanks, Vee." Then, under her breath so Vera wouldn't hear, "For the eternal humiliation you've put me through."

"Oh, come on, 'Kota," Maggie hissed. Vera was already halfway out the room, obliviously shouting something about having the perfect cardigan to go with Dakota's dress. "She's only trying to help."

"No, I guarantee you Zeke paid her to do this."

"And you know this... how?"

"I just do," she insisted. "It's what I'd do to him."

Maggie merely sighed and turned back to her own appearance. Her hair was curlier than usual, falling down past her shoulders in gentle waves. Her makeup matched Dakota's — minus the extra layer of foundation — with a rose gold eyeshadow smeared above her lashes. The dress was red, cinched at the waist and flaring out around her knees. This one, she also borrowed from Vera — her sister's choice, of course.

She felt like a fraud looking so pretty. Like nothing was wrong in the world.

With her.

Excusing herself from the room, she made her way down the hallway to her own bedroom. Immediately heading for the closet, she didn't even notice the open window at first. It was only once she stood up — now an inch or two taller with her heels on — and a sharp gust of wind sent shivers down her spine that she paused, thinking...

I swear I locked the window last night.

She tried not to assume the worst. That was the thing about Maggie. Her mind knew how to jump to conclusions. Perhaps it was her own fault, a detriment to her wellbeing. That no matter what she tried, how many counselling sessions she attended, her body would always feel endangered, alerted, constantly aware of every little single thing that could and would go wrong. The window was closed, and now it was open. There was mud on the carpet, more mud than Scooby could've possibly tracked in with his paws that morning, and the hoodie she kept on the corner chair was definitely missing. She loved that hoodie. She only just put it there last night when it got too hot to wear to bed.

Maggie's breathing went shallow, her vision blurring. She clenched her fists until her hands stung from wounds in the shape of her fingernails. She swore she felt someone watching her, relishing in the instinctual reaction to impending doom.

Wren knocked on the door and asked her something that Maggie didn't catch.

"Sorry, what was that?" She forced her eyes away from the window.

"I asked if you were ready," Wren was smiling, so oblivious.

Maggie let out a shaky breath. "Yeah, I just— you didn't move my hoodie, did you? You know the blue one with the rainbow on the back?"

"No," Wren shook her head. She was already halfway out the door, dressed in her best dress with her hair pinned up in an elaborate bun. "Sorry, sweetie. I'll help you look for it later, okay? But we've gotta go, I want to get pictures—"

Maggie blocked out the rest of her rambling, making sure to shut and lock the window, pulling the curtains over it just for good measure. Then, with terror holding her heart in a death grip, she forced herself to follow Wren downstairs to where the rest of her family, even a brooding Dakota, were laughing and chatting away.

That feeling stuck with Maggie for the rest of the day, in the blur of the cheering crowd jammed into the high school auditorium. Maggie sat with Wren, Everett and Vera not too far from where Paul and the rest of the pack had shown up. Every good moment, tainted. Stained by an intense fear, an uncomfortable feeling like Maggie was not quite in her own body.

Perhaps it was more than fear, more than paranoia, but a warning.

By night time, even when she'd torn the dress from her body and hidden it back in Vera's wardrobe, the anxious feeling had made a home in her gut. She went to dinner with her family, ate enough pasta to be content for a week. Even walking on the beach with them afterwards wasn't enough. The moon was out and the breeze was strong, and Maggie wanted to be sick.

When her phone rang three consecutive times, she knew.

When Paul's truck appeared in her driveway five minutes later, she knew.

When she crept out the window, clambering through bushes to sneak her way into the passenger seat, just one glimpse of the grim look on his face told her everything she needed to know.

Her paranoia was not unfounded.

Something had happened again.

"Tell me what's going on," she said but Paul just shook his head, knuckles bone-white around the steering wheel.

"I don't know everything yet." It didn't sound like a lie but Maggie couldn't be too sure.

Sam's house was eerily quiet when their truck pulled into the driveway. Maggie felt rooted in place, hands shaking as she dislodged her seat belt and dragged her feet back to earth. Her lungs were closing up, heart burning even when they made it inside and saw for themselves that no one was hurt. But something had happened, right? No one could look her in the eye. Something had to be wrong.

"Alright, now that everyone's here," Sam cleared his throat and shot Jacob a pointed look. He was hovering beside Emily, whose face was pale and withdrawn in the dim kitchen light. "Jacob, tell them what you told me."

"It's a bit of a long story," Jacob sighed, his arms tensing from their crossed position over his chest. He was standing alongside Embry, Mae and Quil, smelling of cheap liquor despite the sharpness behind their eyes. They must've just gotten back from a party. "We were at the Cullens' party tonight—" Paul and Jared began to grumble but were quickly silenced by a glare from Sam. "The one with the visions, Alice, she saw something about Bella and Maggie."

Instinctively, Maggie's fists clenched in preparation. She swallowed thickly, smothering down the pin pricks of panic and uncertainty. Most of all, the relief. She was right. Something was wrong. She wasn't ruining her day for nothing.

In that moment, she longed for the morning, for the quiet amusement of Vera and Dakota's bickering. The fondness of Wren fixing Zeke's tie, the brazen pride of their uncle and the flourish of new beginnings on the horizon. Her siblings had graduated. Dakota was waiting on her acceptance into a medical science degree at the local college. No one had noticed the cold confusion in Maggie's expression, the displacement of a life changing, and something more.

"There's an army of vampires coming for them," Jacob said, seeing no sense in beating around the bush. "Alice saw a vision of them passing around Bella's shirt, and something of Maggie's—"

Jacob's voice dipped then, like a radio losing frequency. Through the intense hammering of her heart, she could only think of one thing, one distinct item she was missing, that neither she or her aunt had been able to find despite their best attempts.

"I don't even know why we're considering this," Leah scoffed, the sharp baritone of her voice dragging Maggie headfirst into the present once more. "We don't owe Bella anything."

From beside Maggie, Paul snapped, "This isn't just about Bella!"

"Paul's right," Sam added, to which Leah rolled her eyes. "A whole army of uncontrollable vampires can only mean one thing. We don't have a choice. We have a town to protect. Not to mention our loved ones... your brother, Leah. Your mum. Think of them if you have to, not Bella." When no one spoke, and Maggie's stomach began to twist, acid burning up her throat, Sam continued, "In the morning, I'll get in contact with Carlisle. See when is best for us to start training."

Maggie's feet seemed to move of their own accord. She was out the door before anyone could stop her, desperate for fresh air and a moment's reprieve from the stares of a dozen pairs of expectant eyes. They were waiting for her to crack, knew she was already boiling over. The only one who followed her was Paul. They went to the beach where Maggie sank into the sand without a word, unable to feel anything but cold even with Paul gripping her waist.

"It's Victoria, isn't it?"

It had to be.

Paul's jaw clenched. "Jacob said they can't see who it is."

"Then it's someone she knows," Maggie insisted, sounding the opposite of how she was feeling. Her voice was calm, even as the waves that crashed against the shore. "Why else would they want me? Bella, I understand. She's involved with the Cullens. But me? It has to be personal, Paul."

It was starting to feel like the world was out to get her. Even Paul couldn't prove her wrong. He spat curses and shook with the urge to phase but he knew, like she did, that not much hope was left.

That this was it.

She already had one foot in the grave.

Still, she was calm now. There was no more need for paranoia when the truth had been laid bare.