She smiles back. “Grandma would roll over in her grave if she thought I was divulging her secret recipes.”
I pick up the slightly mealy apple and rinse it in the sink. I grab the carving knife Destiny just unpacked and slice it in half, then quarters. But as I’m cutting the core out, the knife slips and the point digs into my hand. I pull it out and watch a bead of blood pool in my palm. As it grows, the ants start crawling under my skin again.
The image of the sharp point of a knife against Destiny’s forehead flashes into my head and I my eyes fix on the white scar there.
Blood on the carpet.
Blood swirling down the drain.
My vision goes red and all I see is blood…
Destiny’s on the floor, a spray of blood across her shirt that’s not hers. And I’m covered, my hands and my clothes soaked.
I grab some fresh clothes from Destiny’s closet and help her to her feet. We make it to the bathroom and I strip, then help Destiny out of what’s left of her clothes. She’s unsteady and I get in the shower with her to prop her up while I rinse the blood off us both. By the time we finish and I turn off the water, she’s starting to get her wits. I sit her on the toilet and she’s able to dry herself off.
“Do you smell that?” she says.
And I do—the smell of something burning. I push open the door and the smoke nearly chokes me.
“Oh my god!” I croak, covering my face with my towel.
We yank on our clothes and stumble to the stairs. Flames lick the broken banister and the drapes on the window near the front door are a torch.
“What do we do?” I shout, then start coughing and can’t stop.
Destiny pushes me down and tells me to stay there before staggering to her room. She comes out with the blankets off the bed. She takes them to the bathroom and I hear her coughing too as she turns on the tub. She comes back a minute later and throws a wet blanket on top of me. “Wrap it around you, including your head.”
I get to my feet and struggle to drape the heavy blanket over my head, finally tugging it tightly around the front of me and leaving just a hole to peek through.
“Ready? she says between coughs.
I nod and she starts down the stairs.
“We’re going to have to run through it,” she says as the heat intensifies. “You go first.”
“I can’t!” I scream. The fire is louder now, and so hot I feel my skin tighten even through the wet blanket.
“You have to! I’ll be right behind you!”
I shake my head, terror petrifying me into stone and gluing my feet to the stair.
“We can’t wait!” she yells, then grabs my blanket and starts dragging me.
When I realize we’re going no matter what, I grab onto her and start running. Flames lick at the edges of my blanket and the heat is so intense I’m sure I’m burning alive, but I run and don’t stop until we’re outside.
The sirens are so loud they scramble my brain, and as we move down the walk, I see Mom, sitting cross-legged on the sidewalk, staring at the burning house. Her expression is totally blank, but as we pass, she says, “It went faster than I thought it would,” without taking her eyes off the building inferno.
I know that’s supposed to be some kind of apology, but Destiny and I drop the blankets and just keep walking.
I slow at the corner and start to turn to watch as the emergency crews screech to a stop in front of our house, but Destiny grabs my hand and yanks me across the street. “We’ve got to get out of here.”
“Lilah?” She’s got my shoulders in her hands. She starts shaking me. “Lilah!
I drop the bloody apple and realize tears are coursing down my cheeks. I brace my hands on the counter until my legs will carry me to the table, where I collapse into a chair. “I remembered.”
She grimaces. “What do you think you remember?”
I’m all questions and no answers. I grab onto the first one that spins past in the cyclone of my mind. “Why did we run? Why didn’t we stay with Mom when we got out of the house?”
“She was going to jail. CPS would have split us up if they knew we existed, stuck you in some foster home or whatever.”
I know there’s more she’s not telling me by the fear that flashes in her eyes. “I remember a knife…the one from under my bed. I see it against your forehead in my dreams sometimes,” I say, pressing my finger to the place on my forehead where the scar is on hers. My heart is struggling to keep a rhythm and I hold my breath. “Did I do that to you? I can’t remember.”
Her eyes widen. “God, no, Lilah!” She shakes her head as if shaking away a memory. “No, it wasn’t you.”
“Then who?” I know it’s probably wrong for me to push her when she’s just gotten home, but I have to know. “I keep seeing blood… a lot of blood.”
She stands and shakes her head again. “I’m not doing this, Lilah. Just let it lie.”
She disappears up the hall and closes the door to her room as the macaroni on the stove boils over.
Chapter 29