Page 12 of Sorrow

All of a sudden, I’m feeling quite sober.

“I have to call Boo,” I mumble. “I think I dropped my phone.”

He pulls out his phone to call 9-1-1, then holds it out for me to take. As it rings, I catch him muttering something under his breath about The Sons, but my brother answers before I can try to figure out what he’s saying. “What’s up, did you find her?”

Fuck. How am I supposed to tell him this?

“Boo, I’m okay. But... the house... I thought you should hear it from me. It’s... fuck. It’s on fire.”

“What! How?!” I hear rustling on the other end like he’s scrambling to get here, but I’m just trying to hold it together.

“I don’t know. I’m so sorry,” I whisper, shaking so hard I nearly drop the phone. “I’m so sorry.”

“Why are you sorry? It’s not your fault... right?”

The fact that he even has to ask nearly pushes me over the edge, but Hayes snatches the phone before I can respond. “You on your way?”

His voice fades away as I stare at the flames, hardly registering the firemen surrounding his truck and preparing to do the most useless job in the history of jobs.

My house is gone. There wasn’t much of it to begin with, but flames are shooting out of the middle of the roof now. I don’t think there’s any saving it.

Was it my fault? Did I leave the oven on, provoke the wrong person? Did someone do this to us?

Did The Sons?

Maybe it’s a good thing I left earlier. Hayes might’ve been willing to run into a burning house to save my brother, but he’d have roasted marshmallows over the flame before lifting a finger to save me.

And right now... I can’t say I’d blame him.

7

It’s almost four in the morning by the time the fire trucks and police leave. We’re told that an arson investigator will be by in the morning, but Boo’s firefighter friend Reeve seems pretty sure someone broke a window and threw a lit flare into the living room.

This little old house never stood a chance.

Once, eight years ago, I thought I’d lost everything. When the sheriff came to tell us our parents were dead, that seemed like the end. Like the most terrible thing that could ever happen to me... happened.

But standing here with nothing but the clothes on my back, I realize I still had some things left to lose. My sense of home, my sense of belonging. My sense of safety. All gone in a single night. The Sons did this, and something tells me they’re not done.

“Where are we supposed to go?” I ask, not talking to anyone in particular. The alcohol has long since burned out ofmy system, yet somehow I still feel a little drunk — like I can’t stand on my own two feet anymore. I’m not sure I’ve ever been this cold.

“Fuck, I don’t know —”

“Boo, you can come to my house,” Hayes interrupts. “You can stay as long as you need, but she’ll have to find somewhere else.”

Of course I will.

There’s a split second, just a breath of time, where I think that’ll be the thing that unravels me. I’m used to him being cruel, but this? Watching me lose everything and telling me I’m not welcome even for a night? It would undo a regular person.

But I’m not one. I’m the cursed girl, Samara Radley. The girl who sang her monsters to sleep.

I won’t break. Not for him.

“It’s fine,” I lie. “I just need a ride back to my truck.”

Boo holds a hand out and looks at Hayes with murder in his eyes. “You’re seriously turning her away?”

“I didn’t say she had to go somewhere else tonight, just that it can’t be permanent.”

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