As if she hadn’t stolen my entire adulthood. The latest disaster happened the night Lily got hurt. Rachel had been promoted at her marketing job—something she didn’t deserve but was celebrating as though she’d won an award.
Barbara demanded we prepare for the party. I took Lily with me to Barbara’s house because I had errands for the event. Rachel wanted champagne and decorations she couldn’t afford.
Just like that. Like she was telling me the soup had boiled over. When we arrived at the hospital, Lily was already in critical condition.
The doctor told us she had fallen from the second-floor landing, her head hitting the tiles below. Severe brain trauma. Swelling.
Internal bleeding. I couldn’t accept it. Lily wasn’t careless.
She didn’t run indoors. She always held railings. She wasn’t the type of child who just tumbled down a staircase.
Barbara arrived twenty minutes later. Her expression was stiff, more irritated than worried. “These things happen,” she said, looking bored.
“Children act suddenly. I was busy and didn’t see.”
Her voice made my skin crawl. As I sat in the ICU, clutching Lily’s hand, my phone buzzed again.
“Is Lily okay?” Barbara asked. “No,” I whispered. “She hasn’t woken yet.” Continue reading…
