left would be to call for an ambulance. But, just as I stood to get the phone, Mom groaned, stirred, and opened her eyes.
My heart leaped. âMom,â I said as she struggled into a sitting position, a dazed look on her face. âDonât move. Iâll call 911.â
âMeghan?â Mom looked around, blinking. A hand came up to touch her cheek, and she stared at the blood on her fingers. âWhat happened? I ⦠I mustâve fallen â¦â
âYou hit your head,â I replied, standing up and looking around for the phone. âYou might have a concussion. Hold on, Iâm calling the ambulance.â
âThe ambulance? No, no.â Mom sat up, looking a little clearer. âDonât do that, honey. Iâm fine. Iâll just clean up and put on a Band-Aid. Thereâs no need to go to that trouble.â
âBut, Momââ
âIâm fine, Meg.â Mom snatched the forgotten washrag and began wiping the blood off her face. âIâm sorry if I frightened you, but Iâll be fine. Itâs only blood, nothing serious. Besides, we canât afford a big doctorâs bill.â She abruptly straightened and looked around the room. âWhereâs your brother?â
Startled, I looked back to the doorway, but Ethan was gone.
MOMâS PROTESTS WERE WASTED when Luke got home. He took one look at her pale, bandaged face, threw a fit, and insisted they go to the hospital. Luke can be stubbornly persistent when he needs to be, and Mom eventually buckled under the pressure. She was still calling out instructions to meâtake care of Ethan, donât let him stay up too late, thereâs frozen pizza in the fridgeâas Luke bundled her into his battered Ford and roared off down the driveway.
As the truck turned a corner and vanished from sight, the chilly silence descended on the house once more. I shivered, rubbing my arms, feeling it creep into the room and breathe down my neck. The house where Iâd lived most of my life seemed unfamiliar and frightening, as if things lurked in the cupboards and around corners, waiting to grab me as I walked past. My gaze lingered on the crumpled remains of Floppy, strewn across the floor, and for some reason, it made me very sad and scared. No one in this house would rip up Ethanâs favorite stuffed animal. Something was very wrong.
Footsteps padded over the floor. I turned to find Ethan in the doorway, staring at me. He looked strange without the rabbit in his arms, and I wondered why he wasnât upset about it.
âIâm hungry,â he announced, making me blink. âCook me something, Meggie.â
I scowled at the demanding tone.
âItâs not dinnertime yet, squirt,â I told him, crossing my arms. âYou can wait a couple hours.â
His eyes narrowed, and his lips curled back from his teeth. For just a moment, I imagined they were jagged and sharp. âIâm hungry now,â he growled, taking a step forward. Dread shot through me and I recoiled.
Almost immediately, his face smoothed out again, his eyes enormous and pleading. âPlease, Meggie?â he whined.
âPlease? Iâm so hungry.â He pouted, and his voice turned menacing. âMommy didnât make me food, either.â
âAll right, fine! If itâll shut you up, fine.â The angry words erupted from fear, and from a hot embarrassment because I was afraid. Of Ethan. Of my stupid, four-year-old half brother. I didnât know where these demonic mood swings of his were coming from, but I hoped they werenât the start of a trend. Maybe he was just upset because of Momâs accident. Maybe if I fed the brat, heâd fall asleep and leave me alone for the night. I stalked to the freezer, grabbed the pizza, and shoved it in the oven.
While the pizza cooked, I tried to clean up the puddle of vegetable oil in front of the refrigerator. I wondered how the stuff had ended up on the floor, especially when I found the empty bottle stuffed in the trash. I smelled like Crisco when I was done, and the floor still had a slick spot, but it was the best I could do.
The creak of the oven door startled me. I turned to see Ethan pulling it open and reaching inside.
âEthan!â Grabbing his wrist, I yanked him back, ignoring his scream of protest. âWhat are you doing, you idiot? You want to burn yourself?â
âHungry!â
âSit down!â I snapped, plunking him into a dining chair. He actually tried to hit me, the little ingrate. I resisted the urge to smack him. âGod, youâre being snotty today. Sit there and be quiet. Iâll get your food in a second.â
When the pizza came out, he fell on it like a wild thing, not waiting for it to cool. Astonished, I could only stare as he tore through the slices like a starved dog, barely stopping to chew as he gulped it down. Soon, his face and hands were smeared with sauce and cheese, and the pizza was rapidly diminished. In less than two minutes, he had consumed it all, down to the last crumb.
Ethan licked his hands, then raised his eyes to me and frowned. âStill hungry.â
âYou are not,â I told him, snapping out of my daze. âIf you eat anything else youâll get sick. Go play in your room or something.â
He stared at me with a baleful expression, and it seemed that his skin grew darker, wrinkled, and shriveled beneath his baby fat. Without warning, he leaped off the chair, rushed me, and sank his teeth into my leg.
âOw!â Pain lanced through my calf like an electrical shock. Grabbing his hair, I tried prying his teeth from my skin, but he clung to me like a leech and bit down harder. It felt like glass shards stabbing into my leg. Tears blurred my vision, and my knees almost buckled from the pain.
âMeghan!â
Robbie stood inside the front door, a backpack flung over his shoulder, his green eyes wide with shock.
Ethan released me, jerking his head toward the shout. Blood smeared his lips. Seeing Robbie, he hissed andâthereâs no other way to put itâscuttled away from us and up the stairs, vanishing from sight.
I shook so hard I had to sit down on the couch. My leg throbbed, and my breath came in short, uneven gasps. Blood, bright and vivid, seeped through my jeans like an unfurling blossom. Dazed, I stared at it, numbness deadening my limbs, freezing them in shock.
Robbie crossed the room in three strides and knelt beside me. Briskly, as if heâd done this kind of thing before, he began rolling up the cuff of one pant leg.
âRobbie,â I whispered as he bent over his task, his long fingers surprisingly gentle. âWhatâs happening? Everythingâs going crazy. Ethan just attacked me ⦠like a wild dog.â
âThat wasnât your brother,â Robbie muttered as he pushed back the material, revealing a bloody mess below my knee. An oval of jagged puncture wounds marred my leg, seeping blood, and the skin around them was already purpling. Rob whistled softly. âNasty. Wait here. Iâll be right back.â
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