Page 4 of Blood

I know, I feel it.

“Princess, it’s bad, baby.”

“Who?” The words clog my throat. Pebbles fill my stomach. I know. I know before she says it.

Please don’t say it.

Times slows as her lips form around the words.

The cold kitchen floor rushes up and collides with my bones as I drop to my knees, shaking my head. Her voice echoing through the room, through me.

“It’s Harley.”

Don’t say it.

“Harley is dead.”

HARLEY IS DEAD.

CHAPTER2

OUR FIREFLY

Pain. It spreads through every part of my body. It hurts to breathe.

“How?” I ask, looking up at one of the officers. His deep frown lines make his face look animated as he speaks.

“I’m detective Reed and this is detective Hope.” They both pull out a flip wallet and flash me their badges. “I’m sorry to inform you that it appears to be a Homicide, ma’am.”

Murder?

No, he must be mistaken. He’s wrong. “Hit and run or something?” My voice doesn’t sound like my own. It’s deeper, weaker, broken. Maybe she was drunk and wandered into the road. I should have gone looking for her last night when she failed to come home. But I waited. Dammit, I waited.

He said detectives.

“We’re expecting the coroner’s official report soon, but this wasn’t an accident, Ms. Stewart. It’s a homicide investigation,” the woman detective announces.

“Someone killed my baby.” Mom weeps from the kitchen chair, lighting a cigarette and blowing a plume of toxic smoke into the air. The florescent lights buzz above us, casting everything in a hue of blue.

“No.” I shake my head, clawing up the officer’s legs to get to my feet.He’s wrong. She’s wrong. Why would someone do this on purpose? Harley is nineteen, harmless, innocent.Not is—was.

A fresh wave of agony sweeps over me, dragging me into a murky abyss. “How do you know it’s her?” I demand. They’re mistaken. She’s going to walk through that door any minute, drunk with a story to tell. Mom will bitch her out about wearing her boots on the carpet and we’ll laugh. Everything is fine. Everything will be fine.Nothing is fine.

“How do you even know it’s her?” I repeat.

“Identification on her person, ma’am.” The uniformed officer announces, gaining him a glare from the detective.

“I want to see her,” I state, swiping at my tears. A fierceness comes over me.It’s not her.

“We need to make a formal identification.” Reed nods toward my mom.

“I’ll do it,” I cut him off as his mouth opens to add more.

He bobs his head between us, waiting for my mother’s approval. When she doesn’t object, he agrees. “If you’re sure.”

“I am.” I jerk my head firmly and wrap my arms around my waist, hoping they will hold me together.

Walking back through the house, it doesn’t seem as familiar as it should be. The faded wallpaper adorned with family pictures along the hallway makes my skin itch. There will never be a new one of Harley added to those walls if what they say is true.It’s not. It can’t be.

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