Page 68 of The Birthday Girl
Tahlia’s chest rose and fell hard, the knife trembling in her hand as she locked eyes with her sister. Then—she cackled. Her laughter started as a hiccup, then spilling out in ragged bursts that made her shoulders shake and tears spring to the corners of her eyes.
“You think I stabbed you only about Tyriq?” She laughed harder. “It’s not about him, or even about the internet villainizing me, or you running your mouth. No, bitch. You’ve had this coming since we were kids.”
Her grin widened, teeth flashing, the knife twisting as she spoke. “Every dirty look, every time you tried to outshine me, every whisper you thought I didn’t hear, you stacked it up. You’ve been asking for this your whole damn life, and now I’m just collecting the debt that’s owed.”
“Please,” Danielle rasped, tears streaking her face as she winced in agony.
“You’ve grown to be one weak, pathetic bitch. You had all that mouth for the cameras, and now you’re crying for your life. I’m disgusted.” Tahlia’s face twisted, and she rolled her eyes.
Hearing her weirdo sister call her weak made something inside Danielle break, and shame burned hotter than the pain.
Danielle’s lips curled, spite sparking even through pain. “Weak? You was always the soft one. Crying over every littlething, and running to Daddy so he could fix it. I told you then, and I’ll tell you now—you ain’t built like me.”
Tahlia yanked her by the hair, slamming her head against the wall. “Built like you? Bitch, please. You strutted around the house like a queen while everyone gave me scraps. Mama doted on you, Daddy spoiled you, and you lapped it up as if you deserved it.” She twisted the knife, her grin savage. “All you ever deserved was pity.”
Danielle’s nails clawed at her arm, dragging bloody lines. “Pity? That’s what they gave you, not me. They gave me everything because I was worth it. I was the daughter they bragged about. You? You was just the weird little sister nobody wanted around.”
Tahlia shrieked, stabbing again and again, each thrust a word. “Not anymore. Not anymore. Not anymore!”
Blood bubbled at Danielle’s lips, but she grinned through it, defiant. “Still the little sister, still jealous, still crazy.”
Tahlia leaned close, voice bitter as acid. “Crazy enough to finish what I started. Mercedes. Mama. Daddy. Shanice. Her kids. Now you. And that baby, too.”
Danielle’s eyes widened, terror flashing. “You… killed… them all?”
Tahlia smiled, evil and sure. “Yup. Just like I’m about to kill you, then…” she pointed toward the back room. “Her.”
Just then, the baby’s wails climbed to a fever pitch. Its tiny lungs somehow matched the volume of the horror unfolding in the entryway.
The sound tugged at whatever bit of protectiveness Danielle had left in her, and with a surge of desperate strength, her palms slammed into Tahlia’s chest, and her fist followed.
Tahlia’s head snapped sideways with a sickening crack, and she staggered away from the wall. She stumbled backward, shock piercing through her rage. Her shoe caught the rug’sfrayed edge, and she lost traction on the wet tile. She pitched forward, arms flailing wildly.
The knife slid from her hand and skittered across the floor, banging into the coffee-table leg. Her forehead met the table, pain exploded behind her eyes, and a high, relentless ring filled her ears.
“I can’t let you hurt my baby,” Danielle rasped, her voice small, but fierce as she frantically moved toward the hall, using the wall to help her move forward.
Tahlia tried to push herself up, but her arms trembled and the world tilted sideways. Her knees buckled beneath her, then she crumpled awkwardly to the floor, half on her side, half face-down, and for a long, stunned moment, she could only lie there.
The bedroom door was cracked open when Danielle reached it, a sliver of nightlight cutting the darkness. She stumbled inside the bedroom and pushed her hand under the blanket. Her fingers closed on the swaddled bundle, and she hauled her Tyricka free, pinning her to her chest.
Tahlia’s eyes narrowed, fury braided with panic into a single, ugly focus. The ringing in her ears thinned into a distant hiss. She forced her hands under her and pushed herself upward. Pain lanced her forehead with every inch she gained, the ache giving her strength.
She rolled to her knees, braced one foot under the coffee table, and hauled herself upright on a breath that tasted like blood. Her legs trembled but held, and she didn’t permit herself to think about the split in her skull.
Tahlia moved forward, using the edge of the couch for balance. She grabbed the fallen knife from where it had landed. It was time to finish the job.
Danielle was half through the doorway, the baby pressed to her chest, bare feet slapping the floor in a stumble that was part sprint and part limp.
Tahlia roared as she closed the distance between them in three long strides. Before Danielle could exit her home, she reached for her hair and yanked it.
“Where do you think you’re going, bitch? This isn’t over!” Tahlia shouted as she tossed Danielle on the floor.
Danielle clutched the baby tight against her chest, shielding her with one trembling arm as Tahlia stepped forward, lowering the blade for another strike. Summoning more strength, Danielle shoved hard, and their bodies crashed into the wall in a violent tangle.
With her free hand, Danielle’s nails raked down Tahlia’s face, leaving raw, burning furrows as the baby shrieked between them. “Please,” she begged, voice breaking. “Please, Tahlia. Don’t—”
Tahlia laughed, a hard, broken sound, and then she swiped at the arm cradling the baby. Danielle twisted, torquing her body to shield the infant, and slipped. Her side slammed into the floor, and pain shot through her ribs, but she didn’t drop the baby.
