sister had gone. Zoe had left the bedroom about an hour earlier and hadn’t come back.
Carrie was relieved her sister was gone. Zoe had been crying all day, practically nonstop, which had made Carrie feel even worse than she already felt . . . because for the first time that she could remember, she couldn’t help Zoe.
Carrie slipped out of the bed and went to the window. She stared out at the darkness, trying hard to force away memories of the funeral, because every time she thought about it she felt nauseated again.
I miss you, Daddy, she thought. I miss you so much.
She cleared her tears away with the back of her hand.
The pain was unbearable.
She slipped out of the room and into the hallway bathroom to look for a razor blade. She’d just make one small cut. Just one teeny one on her arm. That’s all it would take to numb the pain for a while. To give her some peace.
She’d begun cutting three months ago when the teasing at school had gotten worse. Both she and Zoe had been teased in elementary school for living in a trailer and not having nice clothes. Even worse, their school clothes were usually soiled when they were younger because their mother only went to the Laundromat once a week. They’d been called the Trailer Trash Twins since the third grade, when a girl in their class, Lucy Santos, first screamed it at them on the playground. And the teasing had only gotten worse this past year when Zoe had sex in the school’s bathroom with a boy from their class.
Now not only did their classmates hold their noses when passing them in the hallways and in class, like they’d done for years, they called Zoe a whore and other nasty names. But Carrie knew Zoe wasn’t a whore or any of those other names they’d given her.
Zoe just tried too hard, with everyone . . . and it usually backfired.
Carrie knew her sister tried to get people to like her by making them happy. With their mother, she’d done it by being helpful and complimenting her, even when she didn’t deserve the compliment. And she had sex with the boy because she thought that would make him happy and like her. But it didn’t, at least not for long, because afterward he only laughed at her and treated her worse.
When Zoe told Bitty that they didn’t want to go back to school, she said she’d be happy to homeschool them for as long as they stayed in her care . . . which had been a relief because Carrie couldn’t even imagine what the kids were calling them now that news had gotten around that their parents had been murdered.
Just thinking about the possible names made her shudder.
In the bathroom, she searched the drawers and cabinets, then the cabinet above the toilet. But she couldn’t find any razor blades. She wondered if Bitty hid them . . . and if there were any in another bathroom. She would look when she got the chance.
She considered using a kitchen knife. Chewing on her bottom lip, she thought about it, then shook her head no. It didn’t have the same appeal.
She returned to the bedroom and crawled back into bed—and fantasized that none of it had ever happened.
CHAPTER 16
“MOMMY? MOMMY.” SAMMY’S little hand tapped Allie’s shoulder. He began tapping harder. He was trying to wake her.
Allie opened her eyes to find his face close to hers. Morning sunshine streamed into the bedroom window, directly into her bleary eyes, making her blink.
“Look!” he pointed, his jaw set.
Allie sat up. Zoe was lying next to her, fast asleep, her long dark hair pooled on a pillow.
Allie remembered waking in the middle of the night, surprised to feel Zoe’s body pressed up against her back. Like a cat, she’d been curled up into her, one of her small forearms resting gently on Allie’s stomach.
Sammy shook his head. “But it’s two bugs in a rug, Mommy. Not three!” he whined.
A cold front had swooped in overnight, chilling the morning air to a frigid twenty-four degrees, and the local weatherman was predicting
Carrie was relieved her sister was gone. Zoe had been crying all day, practically nonstop, which had made Carrie feel even worse than she already felt . . . because for the first time that she could remember, she couldn’t help Zoe.
Carrie slipped out of the bed and went to the window. She stared out at the darkness, trying hard to force away memories of the funeral, because every time she thought about it she felt nauseated again.
I miss you, Daddy, she thought. I miss you so much.
She cleared her tears away with the back of her hand.
The pain was unbearable.
She slipped out of the room and into the hallway bathroom to look for a razor blade. She’d just make one small cut. Just one teeny one on her arm. That’s all it would take to numb the pain for a while. To give her some peace.
She’d begun cutting three months ago when the teasing at school had gotten worse. Both she and Zoe had been teased in elementary school for living in a trailer and not having nice clothes. Even worse, their school clothes were usually soiled when they were younger because their mother only went to the Laundromat once a week. They’d been called the Trailer Trash Twins since the third grade, when a girl in their class, Lucy Santos, first screamed it at them on the playground. And the teasing had only gotten worse this past year when Zoe had sex in the school’s bathroom with a boy from their class.
Now not only did their classmates hold their noses when passing them in the hallways and in class, like they’d done for years, they called Zoe a whore and other nasty names. But Carrie knew Zoe wasn’t a whore or any of those other names they’d given her.
Zoe just tried too hard, with everyone . . . and it usually backfired.
Carrie knew her sister tried to get people to like her by making them happy. With their mother, she’d done it by being helpful and complimenting her, even when she didn’t deserve the compliment. And she had sex with the boy because she thought that would make him happy and like her. But it didn’t, at least not for long, because afterward he only laughed at her and treated her worse.
When Zoe told Bitty that they didn’t want to go back to school, she said she’d be happy to homeschool them for as long as they stayed in her care . . . which had been a relief because Carrie couldn’t even imagine what the kids were calling them now that news had gotten around that their parents had been murdered.
Just thinking about the possible names made her shudder.
In the bathroom, she searched the drawers and cabinets, then the cabinet above the toilet. But she couldn’t find any razor blades. She wondered if Bitty hid them . . . and if there were any in another bathroom. She would look when she got the chance.
She considered using a kitchen knife. Chewing on her bottom lip, she thought about it, then shook her head no. It didn’t have the same appeal.
She returned to the bedroom and crawled back into bed—and fantasized that none of it had ever happened.
CHAPTER 16
“MOMMY? MOMMY.” SAMMY’S little hand tapped Allie’s shoulder. He began tapping harder. He was trying to wake her.
Allie opened her eyes to find his face close to hers. Morning sunshine streamed into the bedroom window, directly into her bleary eyes, making her blink.
“Look!” he pointed, his jaw set.
Allie sat up. Zoe was lying next to her, fast asleep, her long dark hair pooled on a pillow.
Allie remembered waking in the middle of the night, surprised to feel Zoe’s body pressed up against her back. Like a cat, she’d been curled up into her, one of her small forearms resting gently on Allie’s stomach.
Sammy shook his head. “But it’s two bugs in a rug, Mommy. Not three!” he whined.
A cold front had swooped in overnight, chilling the morning air to a frigid twenty-four degrees, and the local weatherman was predicting
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