They’re too bright, almost feverish.
“You don’t get it, Bash. I’m like…” She sighs wearily, her bleeding mouth turning down at the corners. “I’m like that butterfly you caught. The one The Witch made me eat. You remember that?”
Remember? Hell, I’ll never forget. That shit’s branded in my brain.
“I’ve been trapped in a jar my whole life,” Billy says.
“Not for much longer. Just three more years?—”
“I don’t have that long.”
Her pronouncement takes the air out of my lungs.
She says it so calmly, so matter-of-fact, I know she’s not being dramatic. My mind scrambles as I try to figure out what to say, a way to dig her out of this ditch she’s in.
“You’re fine.”
She shakes her head, her bleeding lip quivering. “I feelwrong, Bash. Like I don’t belong in my body anymore.”
I scoff. “It’s probably just an iron deficiency or something. I’ll speak to Evelyn tomorrow. Tell her she’s gonna have to feed you more unless she wants to keep taking you to the doctor. Doctors ask questions. She doesn’t want that kind of attention?—“
“I don’t want to be in this jar anymore.”
The determination in her quiet voice cuts effortlessly through my babble.
“What’s that ‘sposed to mean?” I mutter.
“I want to be free.”
“Okay,” I sit back, raking my hands through my hair. She holds herself up in the water without my help, watching me so intently, the hairs on my nape rise. “Okay, okay. We’re gonna clean you up. Get you dressed.” I lower my voice. “Then you’re gonna pack some clothes, and we’re gonna climb out that window. It’s high, but I’ll help you down. There’s a dumpster by the bakery that kinda shields the wind a bit. We can stay there until they open. They know me by now. They’ll help us. Maybe we can work there for a bit until?—“
She presses her fingers to my mouth.
“You have to break my jar, Bash. It’s a sin if I do it, and I don’t want to swap out one hell for another. If I’m going to stand any chance of getting into heaven, youhave to break my jar.”
There’s a whining in my ears, my mouth going dry. I snatch her fingers away from my mouth, shaking my head furiously.
“I can’t do that. Iwon’t.”
“You’re the only one who can.” She takes my hand, turning it over and pressing her lips to my inner wrist. “Please, Bash.Please.”
Tears trickle down her face, but they don’t seem to sting the wounds on her cheek because she doesn’t even seem to notice them.
“I know what I’m asking is unforgivable. After everything you’ve done for me, it’s selfish, and cruel, and the worst thing I can ever do to you. But I need your help, just one last time.”
Goosebumps break out on my skin when she kisses my wrist again. The skin is so sensitive there, it’s beyond ticklish.
Then I realize what she’s insinuating.
She’s not just asking me to kill her.
She’s telling me exactly how she wants it done.
“No!” I tug my hand free, rubbing furiously at the spot she kissed when it won’t stop tingling. “That’s…that’s murder! You’re asking me to murder you!”
“It’s okay. God won’t punish you. I promise.”
“Fuck God,” I croak. “What has He ever done for you?”
