Chapter 1 - BOTH GIRLS FELL THE SAME WAY
The last thing I heard before darkness swallowed me was Lily screaming my name.
The last thing I saw was Raymond smiling as though her fear were applause.
When I opened my eyes again, fluorescent lights burned above me.
A hospital monitor beeped near my left shoulder.
My head felt heavy, and every breath pulled against pain along my ribs.
For several seconds, I did not know where I was.
Then I saw Lily on the bed beside mine.
She lay beneath a white sheet with an oxygen line beneath her nose. Her eyes were closed. A nurse stood near her feet, writing something on a tablet.
Our mother, Celeste, stood between the beds with her purse pressed against her chest.
Raymond was directly behind her.
His arms were crossed.
He looked annoyed.
Not frightened.
Not ashamed.
Annoyed that the emergency room had not accepted his explanation quickly enough.
Dr. Elias Grant stood beside Lily, comparing the marks on her forearm with those on mine.
They were nearly identical.
Raymond had made us stand side by side before striking us with the same object.
He liked symmetry.
He said it made discipline fair.
Celeste looked directly at the doctor.
“They fell down the stairs.”
Her voice sounded breathless and rehearsed.
Dr. Grant slowly straightened.
“Both girls?”
“Yes.”
“At the same time?”
“They were fighting.”
“Which staircase?”
“The basement.”
“How many steps?”
Celeste’s eyes moved toward Raymond.
“Ten. Maybe twelve.”
Dr. Grant glanced toward the emergency chart.
“The paramedic report says Mr. Vale found them near the second-floor landing.”
Raymond stepped forward.
“My wife is in shock.”
Dr. Grant did not move.
“Did you witness the fall?”
“No. I heard it.”
“Where were you?”
“Downstairs.”
“Then how do you know they were fighting?”
Raymond’s jaw tightened.
“Because they always fight.”
Lily and I rarely fought.
We argued over clothing, music, and whose turn it was to wash dishes.
We had never struck each other.
Dr. Grant returned his attention to the bruises.
“Some of these marks are older.”
“Teenagers get bruises,” Raymond said.
“In matching locations?”
Raymond stormed one hard step toward him.
“Teenagers lie. Stop questioning us and treat them.”
The security guard near the door shifted his weight.
Dr. Grant placed himself between Raymond and our beds.
“We are treating them.”
“Then stop interrogating my family.”
“I am asking questions required by their injuries.”
Raymond attempted to step around him.
Dr. Grant blocked him again with one rigid arm.
That was when my fingers found the doctor’s sleeve.
I barely had enough strength to hold the fabric.
Raymond looked at me.
The moment our eyes met, my body reacted before my mind did.
I recoiled against the mattress.
Dr. Grant felt the movement.
He looked down.
“Mara, can you hear me?”
I nodded.
“Do you know where you are?”
“Hospital.”
“Do you know who brought you?”
My eyes returned to Raymond.
His expression carried the warning he had given before dragging us into the car.
Tell them you fell, or Lily will pay for every word.
My mouth went dry.
Raymond took another step.
Dr. Grant raised the bed rail and blocked him.
“You need to remain back.”
“She is my stepdaughter.”
“She is my patient.”
Raymond’s arrogance faltered.
I tightened my fingers around the doctor’s sleeve.
“He did this to us.”
Celeste covered her mouth.
Raymond lunged toward the bed.
The security guard moved in front of him.
Dr. Grant turned sharply.
“Lock down this room. Call 911 immediately.”
The guard gripped his radio.
Raymond froze.
“You have no idea who you’re accusing.”
Dr. Grant kept his body between us.
“I have an injured minor identifying the person she fears. Security will maintain separation while law enforcement investigates.”
Raymond pointed toward me.
“She is confused from the fall.”
“I’m not confused.”
My voice was weak, but it reached him.
Celeste began crying.
“Mara, please.”
I looked at her.
“Tell him.”
She shook her head.
“Tell him what happened.”
“I’m trying to keep everyone safe.”
“You turned up the television.”
Her face collapsed.
Raymond’s head snapped toward her.
“Do not answer.”
The security guard ordered him to place his hands where they could be seen.
A nurse moved Celeste toward the wall.
Another closed the curtain between Lily and the confrontation.
Dr. Grant asked me one question at a time.
“Did Raymond strike you?”
“Yes.”
“Did he strike Lily?”
“Yes.”
“Did anyone else hurt either of you tonight?”
“No.”
“Did your mother witness it?”
I looked at Celeste.
She stared at the floor.
“Yes.”
Raymond began shouting that I was manipulative, unstable, and angry because he had tried to discipline us.
The guard instructed him to remain silent.
He laughed.
“You think her story proves anything?”
From the bed beside mine came a faint sound.
Lily’s fingers moved beneath the sheet.
Her eyelids opened.
Raymond saw.
For the first time, real fear entered his face.
Lily turned her head toward him.
Then toward me.
May you like
“He will soon,” she whispered.
Police arrived before Raymond could ask what she meant.
