“I killed my stepfather.”
CHAPTERFOURTEEN
The words tumble out of me with no hesitation, no delay.
And once the truth is out, I feel stripped bare. Like I could be destroyed by the slightest breeze.
Jared’s arm goes around my waist. “That’s not true.”
“It’s absolutely true!” I sit up straight.
“He died in a fire started by a space heater. You and your mom were lucky you weren’t home at the time.”
“I left the heater on and forgot to turn it off,” I whispered.
Jared’s eyes flash with surprise. “Your mom told me Aaron left it on.”
“I told her it was me, though.” I close my eyes briefly, feeling the hot shame envelop me. “She didn’t believe me, so she begged me not to tell the police. But I knew I had to.”
“What did they say?”
“That’s the thing. I went to the police and tried to confess, but the officer on duty cut me off and told me all the reports had been filed. He wouldn’t take my statement. I think he did it to protect me because I was a minor.”
“And the police had been to your house numerous times on account of Aaron. Everyone despised the way he treated your mother.”
“Yes. Nobody felt sorry for Aaron, that’s for sure.”
“Did you see the final report?”
“Yes. It didn’t mention the location of the heater. Obviously, the officer omitted that detail for my benefit. I haven’t been able to forgive myself though. And I’ve been too ashamed to tell anyone since.”
“So it’s been eating away at you.”
“Yes.”
Jared gazes past me into the distance like he’s deep in thought. “Are you sure?”
His question catches me off-guard.
“Sure of what?”
“Are you certain you left the heater on?”
“Of course I’m sure,” I snap. “I always used the heater in my bedroom, remember?”
“I do.”
“And that night, I was rushing because I was anxious to get Mom out of there before Aaron could…” I trail off, but I don’t need to continue for Jared to know where I’m going with that sentence.
Aaron hit Mom a lot. Enough that I had to call the cops more than once. Enough that I used to fantasize about him disappearing.
“Anyway, the heater was in my bedroom. I thought I turned it off. I could have sworn that I did, actually. But obviously, I didn’t, or the fire wouldn’t have gotten started.”
“What started it?” Jared pushes me. “The heater must have been close to something flammable, right?”
“The curtains.”
I recall the way my stomach dropped when Mom and I went to the station and overheard the desk clerk say that “curtains and space heater” were the cause.
