That’s enough.
I push open two of the windows that overlook the yard. Mom or Dad had taken up gardening, it seems. Violets, daisies, and the only kind of dahlia I like to see on these grounds line the grassy field.
Turning, my eyes close, and I let the breakfast table take my weight.
Opening my eyes again, I spot two identical cell phones on the surface. I’d scowl over those filthy things being there in normal circumstances, but not today.
Unlocking the phone, I find an ancient photo of Mom and Dad, with me being forced to tolerate Dollie in the background. The phone icon brings up a keypad, and I tap 911 and the speaker icon.
The operator answers within seconds.
“Hello. Operator. What is your emergency?”
My breathing is all that comes down the line, my cruel mind keeping me quiet.
Mom and Dad need help, but if you talk, Dollie will go to jail, and she’ll be hurt there.
Endless tears keep falling as I try to force in thoughts of what I can do to make all this better.
“Hello, do you hear me?”
I bang the wooden surface, vibrating Mom’s phone in the distance, indicating yes, I can hear you, operator.
“Please, stay on the line while we get your location.”
Clicking into Dad’s messaging app, the first thread I see is him telling Mom how much he loves her. I don’t click intotheir personal conversations. I click the one that sits just below, named Princess.
Another message of endearment appears before me. It squeezes something in my chest. Dad loved hard, and he let the whole family know... except when it came to me.
I type a quick message and move back through the house. The light from the music room catches my attention. I spot Duggan on the sofa and pick him up. Deciding to use the secret door in the corner of the room to avoid my parents.
I stalk through the dark, not leaving the tunnels until I step out into my room—tunnel vision locks on my empty bathroom. I allow myself the seconds I need to set the door in place and realize Duggan has slipped from under my arm on the way up. Not having time to waste, I brush off thoughts of spiders spinning webs and creating homes on his saggy stomach.
We can get him on the way out.
I look down at the only thing in my hands, the phone with the half-written message to Dollie and the disconnected call from the emergency operator.
Shifting through my open bedroom door, I find Dollie in her room, her brows pulled down slightly as she sleeps.
I finish my message and stare at her in the lamp-lit room.
A pink glow cascades around the space that looks so different from how I remember it. It makes everything look pink, including me and the stains on my body as I look down at myself, stepping inside.
Dollie lies beneath frilly sheets, her wet hair fanned out on the pillow.
I shake her awake, leaving a bloody handprint on her bedsheets.
She jumps, waking from sleep instantly. “Yay.” She smiles big and cheesy, totally oblivious to what she’s done tonight.
She rubs the tiredness from her eyes with those tiny, soft hands that I looked forward to tracing my scars tonight.
The hands that ended our parents’ lives.
An invisible knife twists in my stomach, then my heart, when she talks again.
“I was hoping you’d come, but I guess I fell asleep.”
Unable to mouth anything with so many emotions choking me, I turn the phone toward her. The bright screen too close to her face has her rubbing her eyes again.
