Page 44 of Porcelain Lies

We stay like that, our shared grief binding us together as officers move around us, their radios crackling with static and coded messages that mean nothing compared to the devastating truth: our family will never be whole again.

“Murder,” Mom’s voice is muffled against my shoulder. “They… murdered him!” Her nails dig deeper into my arm as she thrashes against our embrace.

“Mom, what are you talking about?” My voice sounds distant, hollow. Nick’s arms tighten around us both.

“They came…” Mom’s words dissolve into Russian, fragments of prayer and curse mixing together. “Your father knew… he told me they would… one day they would…”

I exchange glances with Nick over her head. His eyes are wide, bloodshot. I look down at my mother again, then stiffen when I see a smear of blood on her cheek. More blood is matted in her hair.

“Mom! You’re hurt!” I say urgently. But she’s not looking at me. Her eyes are fixed on a point beyond my shoulder.

“Mrs. Fermont?” A paramedic kneels beside us, medical bag in hand. “I need to check your vitals. You’re in shock.”

Mom jerks away from his reaching hand. “Don’t touch me!” Her accent thickens with hysteria. “They’ll kill us all!”

“Mom, please.” I try to gentle her, but she’s beyond reason. Her chest heaves with rapid, shallow breaths.

“Your father…” She clutches at her throat, gasping. “He knew… the doctor… St. Petersburg…”

The paramedic moves in with practiced efficiency, managing to catch Mom’s wrist despite her resistance. “Her pulse is racing. We need to get her stabilized.”

Nick helps me lift Mom as the paramedic guides her toward the waiting ambulance. Her legs give out halfway there, forcing us to half-carry her.

“Stay with me,” I whisper, pressing my lips to her temple. “We’re here,Mama. We’re here.”

Her only response is another keening wail that tears at my heart. The paramedic produces a syringe, and I have to look away as he administers what must be a sedative.

Mom’s desperate grip on my hand gradually loosens as the medication takes effect. Her screams fade to whimpers, then to silence.

The ambulance lights paint everything in strobing red and blue as the paramedics secure Mom to the stretcher. I climb in beside her, my fingers interlaced with her limp hand. The sedatives have stopped her screams, but her face remains twisted in anguish even in unconsciousness.

“I’ll follow in my car,” Nick calls before the doors close. His voice sounds strange, strained.

The ride to the hospital blurs past. I focus on Mom’s shallow breathing, trying to make sense of her frantic words.

The doctor… St. Petersburg… They came.

Could our old life in Russia have something to do with Dad’s death?

My mind replays her hysteria —“They murdered him!”Not an accident then? But who would want to hurt my father, a family doctor?

The emergency room staff whisk Mom away for evaluation, leaving me alone in the harsh fluorescent lighting of the waiting room. Nick arrives minutes later, his face ashen.

“Stels… How is she?” His voice is hoarse.

I helplessly shake my head. “They…” My voice comes out hoarse and I have to clear my throat. “They just took her to one of the wards.” I rub my eyes. “She was pretty out of it. Babbling about murder and people being after him.”

Nick looks away and fixes his attention on the doorway, I frown at him. “What’s going on, Nick? Is there something you’re not telling me?”

“No… I…” He pulls in a breath. “Mom and Dad had secrets. You know that.”

“What secrets?” I stare at him. “What do you mean, Nick? Are you saying Dad was involved in something that got him… killed?”

That’s unbelievable.

“I don’t know what to say, Stella. But you can’t deny that our lives weren’t exactly normal.”

“Yeah, but… murder?” I whisper. I sink into one of the hard plastic chairs. Nick’s words are stirring up memories I’ve tried to forget. The rushed move from St. Petersburg,leaving Russia, Dad burning our old documents, their whispered conversations in Russian when they thought we were asleep.

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