Chapter One
Kira
Idig my nails into the skin of my chest, trying to counter some of the violent pounding in my heart as my gurney is hoisted into the ambulance. I’m flanked on either side by paramedics, my sister just behind them, tears in her eyes.
But she needs to get it together.
Because Iamhaving a fucking heart attack, and she can’t let the police officers inside.
The two badges are shooting the shit by their cruisers, lights flashing but sirens off. They’re required to show up when all I needed was an ambulance, and I cannot believe my luck. Any other time, I would love to have them patrolling our shitty neighborhood so I don’t have to worry about leaving Nix all night while I work graveyard. But tonight? Tonight ofallnights? I need them far, far away from our hovel of a home.
I can’t believe my twenty-six-year-old body has decided to have a heart attack at the worst possible moment.
“Kira,” Nix whimpers my name, her voice trembling.
But I can’t answer her around the merciless cinching in my chest. My heart feels like it’s literally about to explode, making every breath a struggle. Goddamn it. I try to convey to my younger sister what I want to say with just my eyes.
Stay here.
Wait for me.
Don’t touch anything.
And for the love of God, donotlet the cops in.
But by the way she starts climbing into the back of the ambulance, it’s clear she gets none of this.
I give a single, fierce shake of my head, and she freezes.
“St—stay,” I choke through gritted teeth.
“But…” Her bottom lip quivers like a child, even though she’s freshly eighteen.
Angry tears spring to my eyes. Is she fucking stupid? Has she already forgotten what’s in the house? Does she think me having a heart attack magically erases the body lying on her bedroom floor? I shove her, hard as I can, with what little seized-up strength I have left. It’s not much, but it’s enough to get her attention. I glare at her, pouring every ounce of desperation into my gaze.Stay here. Hold it down. For once, just listen to me.
She gulps, wringing her hands, and for a second, I think she’s going to ignore me again. But finally—fuckingfinally—she nods and backs out of the ambulance.
“You coming or staying? ‘Cause we have to go,” one of the paramedics barks without looking at her, pulling down my shirt to attach something.
Her gaze flicks to me, checking for confirmation, and if I weren’t on the brink of death, I would scream at the top of my lungs. Does she not get it? She can’t come with me. We have a fuckingdead bodyin our house. I love my sister. I love her more than anything. But fuck if she isn’t thinking right now, and I want to throttle her.
“She—” I try to speak, but another bolt of pain tears through my chest, stealing the breath from my lungs. Oh God, Iamgoing to die.
“I’m staying!” she cries. “I’m staying! Just go! Please, hurry!”
The other paramedic wastes no time as he pulls the doors closed and cuts off my view. I can only hope that she runs inside and locks the door, that the officers are assholes and don’t check on her, that I’m not actually dying and can get us out of this somehow.
But I don’t know how to get rid of a body, and I can barely think about it around the pain. It hurts like a bitch, like some fucker has their fist around my heart, trying to prevent it from beating. Any hope I had of it just being a panic attack vanished when I crumpled to my knees in front of the corpse. I’ve had a couple panic attacks in my life, and the pain that followed was nothing like them. This is much, much worse. I crawled out to the porch only so no one would step inside and find the crime scene.
“Just try to relax,” the paramedic says.
I would scoff if I could, but he places an oxygen mask on my face and guides my head back.
“Everything’s going to be okay,” he placates me.
But it’s not. And it never has been. I’ve been taking care of my sister all on my own since I was eight years old. Does this guy know what it’s like to hold a crying baby at eight years old and not have anything to feed them? Does he know what it’s like to work two after-school jobs on an hour-and-a-half sleep? Does he know what it’s like to fight tooth and nail to finish high school only to end up bartending because choosing college meant losing her to CPS?
He doesn’t; otherwise, he wouldn’t be telling me howokayeverything’s going to be.
