“Tell me you want it…”
Panicking, I bolted up the staircase, not stopping until I was under the covers in my bed.
Bad girl.
Bad girl.
Bad girl.
Clenching my eyes shut, I tried to push the voices out of my head, but they wouldn’t go.
DECEMBER 25, 1993
Lizzie
IT WAS LATE ONCHRISTMAS NIGHT WHEN MY BEDROOM DOOR OPENED INWARD, ANDMark slipped into my room.
I smiled when he locked the door behind him because that meant he was going to fix me again.
I liked Mark a lot. He smelled nice and was super funny, and he always played with me when he came over, even when Caoimhe didn’t want me to hang out with them. She wanted to go smooching in the woods at the back of our house instead, where our parents couldn’t see them. They did it all the time, and Caoimhe even brought him over when our parents weren’t home.
They always made me promise not to tell. That was easy-peasy for me because I was good at keeping secrets.
After all, I kept lots of secrets for them.
Especially Mark’s secret superpower.
I never told anyone because Mark said that would make it stop working, and I didn’t want to get sick again. He said I would if he didn’t keep fixing me.
Mark and his daddy had come over to our house for dinner, and they were sleeping over because his daddy drank too much whiskey with my daddy.
“Are you ready for me, munchkin?” Mark whispered, moving to my bed.
“I’ve been waiting up for you,” I told him, proud of myself for staying up so late without getting caught. “Just like you said.”
“That’s my girl.” Grinning, he sat down on the edge of my bed. “Look what I got for Christmas.” He held up a shiny camera and said, “I’m going to take some pictures of you, munchkin. Special pictures just for me, okay?”
Nodding eagerly, I did everything he told me to.
“You’re such a pretty little thing,” Mark told me when he finished taking my picture. “How are you feeling tonight, munchkin?”
“Great.”
He frowned and touched my forehead. “Oh no.”
“What?”
“It’s getting worse.”
My eyes widened. “It is?”
He nodded sadly. “Do you know what happens if you don’t get better?”
“What?”
“Your hair will fall out like your mammy’s, and you’ll get sicker and sicker like her.”
“I will?” I gripped my head, feeling scared. “But I don’t want to lose my hair.”
