Had Ben died hating me?
The thought ripped me open from my throat to my belly, and I lay there helpless. I seethed. If Ben had hated me, it was nothingcompared to how much I hated myself. I had never hated another being as much as I hated me.
I wanted to do nothing but sleep.
I’d never sleep ever again.
I rolled over, smelled the musty scent of my childhood pillow, and closed my eyes.
—
He was warm.
Curled up against me in his familiar way, a ball of heat against my stomach and chest. I flung my arm tighter over him and instinctively inhaled against his hair, the tender scent of his scalp. Baby shampoo and a little boy’s skin, clean and funky at the same time. The best smell.
I pressed my cheek to the top of his head. He squirmed against me, his hand clasping my fingers and squeezing them. The water never came when Ben was here. He’d climb into bed with me, and we’d both be safe, so safe. Nothing could go wrong when we were like this. I felt my heart thump against his back.
“Dodie,” he said.
I opened my eyes.
My little brother whispered in my ear, his breath hot. “Dodie. Find me.”
I sucked in a gasp as icy water rushed over the bed and into my empty arms. I pushed up before it covered my face, launching my body off the mattress. In the doorway—what was it? A shadow? It looked like—
Slipping in the icy water, I scrambled out of bed and crashed through the doorway, running after my little brother.
16
Vail
Dodie was screaming.
I was awake and out of bed before I fully registered what the sound was. I staggered to my bedroom door as a crash sounded in the hall, followed by a hard thump. My little sister screamed again, then again, the same word. “Ben!”
It was dark. I slapped the wall, looking for a light switch. Down the hall, another door opened and Violet’s voice shouted, “Dodie?”
I smacked the switch in time to see Dodie run to the landing, then start down the stairs. She screamed again, and then she tripped, her feet sliding from under her as she clutched the railing. She twisted, holding on to the railing for a second, and then she let go.
Violet flew after her, calling her name. I descended to see Dodie sitting on the bottom step in pajama pants and an old sleeveless shirt, her arms wrapped around her knees. A red mark flared on her skin where her elbow had hit the floor. Her dark hair was a feral mess, her eyes wild. She gave an agonized wail, then dropped her head and started weeping, her shoulders heaving.
Violet and I exchanged an alarmed look. Violet tied her robe snuglyaround herself and lowered to the step next to Dodie, putting an arm around her shoulders. Dodie was definitely not herself, because instead of pulling away, she leaned into Violet, shuddering as she wept.
I moved past them on the stairs and stood in front of Dodie, where I squatted on my haunches in my sweatpants and tee. With her head down, I couldn’t see her face. “What happened?” I asked her, my voice a rasp.
I didn’t think she would answer. She seemed lost somewhere, folded inside herself. She was the only one of us to have outbursts like this as a child. Dodie could spit anger, weep, or laugh herself to tears when the mood struck her, while Violet and I never could. Violet always felt too responsible to let go, and I simply shut my feelings off, flipped them like a fuse switch. Part of me had envied Dodie’s wild ability to scream.
Violet patted Dodie’s shoulder awkwardly, then patted her back. She didn’t seem to know what to say, either. We Esmies were bad with physical comfort.
Dodie lifted her chin enough to speak. “I felt him.” The words came out in a gasp, and Violet’s hand stilled. “Ifelthim, Vail. Ifelthim. There was so much water.” She looked down at herself, brushing a hand over her shirt, which was dry. “I felt him,” she repeated to herself.
I reached out and took her wrist, pressing my fingers to the pulse there beneath the tissue paper of skin. Dodie’s flesh was freakishly cold, but her pulse was racing, and I dug my fingers gently against the delicate bones as if I could pry the truth from them. “Tell me,” I said.
She inhaled shakily, her head still lowered. “He was in my bed. And then he ran out the door and down—” She closed her eyes. “He said my name. And ‘Find me.’ ”
So Ben was playing a game, then. I knew his games. I kept my excitement down by force of will. “Where did he go?”
Dodie pointed past us in the direction of the dark kitchen, the dark living room.
