do but lay in bed and stare at the walls and nailed-shut windows, it was no wonder, really. Yet, despite the drifting, I felt certain at least a day had passed.
Out of boredom and sickness, I’d fallen asleep twice. It had been dark the last time I’d woken from a dream of my mom. She’d come to me, materializing out of the darkness, to comfort me because even in my sleep, I hadn’t been able to escape the way my middle cramped and my body ached.
I could still feel the echo of Mom’s dream-hand stroking my hair and hear her whispering for me to be strong. She’d told me I would survive. I was meant to live.
After waking from that dream, I’d curled into a ball and sobbed, hating that she’d felt so real. More so, I hated that I’d been pulled away from the comfort I so desperately wanted, something I hadn’t had since the day she died.
Reaching the bed, I collapsed on the mattress and gave up trying to remember. I didn’t honestly care that it was light outside now. I hurt and was thirsty, but the only thing I wanted to drink wasn’t available to me.
With the exception of the magical appearance of food-filled bowls on my bedside table, Emily and Merdon left me alone. That suited me just fine. Other than dumping the peace offerings into the toilet along with my steady contribution of bile, I stayed in bed.
So I lay there, shaking, waiting for the time to pass and my misery to end, one way or another.
My mind started to drift again.
An image of my mother appeared in the corner of my room. She was smiling and waving for me to join her. Behind her, I saw the kitchen of our family home. My hands twitched on the covers. I wanted to throw them back so badly and help her bake cookies.
The image wavered, and my mom and the kitchen changed. This time, she was motioning for me to stay. It was a scene I remembered well. Her clothes were dirty, and the dimly lit kitchen was a mess. She was telling Katie and me to stay put while she snuck over to see if the neighbor, the one my dad had killed, had any food.
I shook my head, feeling the tears gather.
“Don't go,” I whispered.
“I won't.”
The words didn't match her lips, which were mouthing, "I'll be right back. Stay quiet and stay together."
I trembled as she turned her back on me and faded into nothing. Tears made slow treks down my cheeks. Everyone always left. Even me.
For a while, there was just a wall to stare at.
Then, Katie appeared. She was kneeling beside a bed, moving jerkily.
“No,” I said loudly.
I curled into a ball, covering my head with my arms, and rocked and trembled. I didn’t want to see that memory.
“Not that one,” I panted. “Anything but that one.”
Again, the dream of running through the trees returned, and I relived every terror-filled moment. Knowing how it would end made re-experiencing the moments before even more painful. I wanted to yell at myself to keep going, to push Katie ahead of me, or maybe to try climbing a tree. This dream didn’t allow me any such kindness, though. It was no more than I deserved. So, I relived abandoning my sister, over and over, the pain cutting deeper and deeper into my soul.
I sobbed.
My mom returned again with her gentle hand smoothing over my sweat-slicked curls.
“Be strong. You will live.”
I knew I would live, and that was my shame. I didn’t deserve life.
“I don’t want to live,” I whispered. “I want to die.”
The hand stilled.
“That’s no longer a choice you can make.”
She was right. Emily and Merdon had taken that from me.
“Soon,” I whispered.
“Never.”
The voice was right and wrong at the same time. Like the mismatched lips. I wished I could see her instead of just feel her.
Sighing, I waited for the memory and some of the pain to fade. When it did, so did her hand.
Exhausted, sick, and mind-numb from all the thoughts I didn’t want to think, I almost missed the sound of the door opening. I shifted my gaze, wondering if this moment was real, and watched Emily as she entered and coughed lightly before covering her nose.
She left the door open behind her and moved toward the bathroom.
I pushed off my covers and forced myself to my feet. Freedom beckoned.
The toilet flushed, and I hurried toward the door. Just before I