“The morning! Where did you sleep?”
Damiano looks exhausted, his face gray beneath the soot, but he smiles. “Right here. You were never alone.”
My head falls back on the pillow, and tears swim in my eyes. Never alone. Two of the sweetest words I’ve ever heard. It means so much to me that he never left my side.
“Your sister…” I whisper. “I’m so sorry.”
He puts his head down on the bed. His hands clench on the blanket so hard his knuckles turn white. When he speaks, his voice is barely a whisper. “I tried to go into the house and save her, but the fire was too hot. I shouldn’t have let her leave the creek.”
“It’s all my fault,” I tell him, my voice cracking. I distracted him from looking after her by being too grateful for his attention. Too needy for his kindness. The grief in his eyes is unbearable, and I put it there.
Damiano sits up fast, swipes tears from his cheeks, and says fiercely, “It’s Dad’s fault for bringing us there. Did you see the place where you were sitting after the explosion? The car was on fire. You would have died as well, which is your mom’s fault for leaving you there. You and my sister could both be dead. The only good thing that’s happened is that I saved you, and I don’t ever want to hear you say that any of this is your fault.”
Anger blazes in Damiano’s eyes. He’s seeing that burning house all over again. Reliving those terrifying moments. His breath is coming faster and faster.
I reach out and touch his cheek, stroking my fingers over his jaw. He covers my hand with his and leans gratefully into my touch. His breathing slows. His eyes close.
“You were bleeding so much,” he whispers. “I was so scared for you. I couldn’t save Lily, but I’m so grateful you’re alive.”
There’s the sound of brisk footsteps approaching my bed, and a woman dressed in street clothes peers around the curtain. She introduces herself as Ms. Mills from Child Protective Services. Her blouse has a loud floral print, and she wears a navy skirt. She smiles at us, but her smile looks pinned on.
“You two are from the explosion yesterday? We’re going to do some paperwork, and then I’ll take you to a residential facility for children. Just for a little while. It’s a very nice place.”
Her expression flickers as she saysvery nice place. She’s lying.
“This will be while we locate some family for you both, and they’ll come and collect you.” She’s about to take a seat on the other side of my bed when her phone rings, and she checks the screen. “I’ll be back in one moment.”
We watch her step outside the curtain and take her call.
“What’s going to happen to us?” I ask Damiano. My heart is starting to race, panic rising in my throat.
Damiano reaches for my hand again and strokes my knuckles with his thumb. “Your mom will come and get you.”
Maybe it’s the drugs, or maybe it’s Damiano holding my hand and being so kind to me, but I no longer have the strength to swallow down the words that are begging to be screamed out loud.
“Mom’s not coming for me,” I say brokenly, tears filling my eyes. “Even if she does, she’ll just leave me behind again. This isn’t the first time she’s driven off and left me.”
Damiano’s hand clenches on mine, and his mouth drops open in outrage. “She leaves you behind on purpose?”
Shame floods me from head to toe. Other parents are frantic when they lose sight of their children for even a second. There must be something horribly wrong with me because Mom enjoys leaving me behind.
“She does it to punish me when I’m too clingy, and she’s threatened a couple of times that one day she’ll never come back.”
Damiano’s eyes search mine. His thumb strokes the back of my hand so hard it almost hurts. “Lucy. How long were you alone at that house?”
I don’t want to admit it, but Damiano’s looking at me so intently with those beautiful brown eyes that I know I can’t lie to him. “Two days. I crept into the house and stole some stale bread from the kitchen when I got hungry, and to use the bathroom. The people were so scary, and their eyes were weird, but nobody really noticed me.”
For a moment, Damiano just stares at me. Then his face twists with an emotion I can’t name, somewhere between rage and pain.
“Do you have any other family? Aunts, uncles, grandparents, godparents?”
I shake my head. “If I had family, I think Mom would have left me with them long ago. I don’t have anyone.”
He’s silent for a long time, staring at my hand in his. When he speaks, his voice is barely audible. “I don’t have any family either.”
So we’re both completely alone.
Heavy silence fills the curtained space. Outside, machines beep. People talk in low voices. The world keeps moving, but inside this little bubble, time has come to a miserable stop.
