Unbreakable

I didn’t explain any of that to my aunt when I refused to move to Boston to live with her, or when she had spread out a stack of glossy boarding school brochures in front of me a few days later. I had flipped through the pictures of ivy-covered buildings that all looked frighteningly similar: Pennsylvania, Rhode Island, Connecticut. In the end, I picked upstate New York, the coldest place—and the farthest from home.

My aunt had started making arrangements immediately, as if she wanted to go back to her life as badly as I wanted to get her out of mine. I had forced a wave when her cab finally pulled away from the curb yesterday, after I persuaded her to let me stay at Elle’s until I left for New York.

As I pulled the picture of Elvis off the mirror, another photo fluttered to the floor—my dad standing in front of a gray weather-beaten house with me grinning from his shoulders. I looked so happy, like nothing could wipe that smile off my face. It reminded me of a darker day, when I learned that a smile can break as easily as a heart.

I woke up early and tiptoed downstairs to watch cartoons with the volume muted, the way I usually did when my parents slept late on weekends. I was pouring chocolate milk into my cereal when I heard the hinges of the front door groan. I rushed to the window.

My dad had his back to me, a duffel bag in one hand and his car keys in the other.

Was he going on a trip?

He opened the driver’s-side door and bent down to climb in. That’s when he saw me and froze. I waved, and he raised his hand as if he was going to wave back. But he never did. Instead, he closed the car door and drove away.

I found the ripped sheet of paper on the table in the hall a few minutes later. Sloppy handwriting stretched across the page like a scar.

Elizabeth

You’re the first woman I ever loved, and I know you’ll be the last. But I can’t stay. All I ever wanted for us —and for Kennedy—was a normal life. I think we both know that’s impossible.

Alex

I couldn’t read the words back then, but my brain took a mental snapshot, preserving the curve of every letter. Years later, I realized what it said and the reason my father left. It was the note my mom had cried over night after night, and the one she’d never discuss.

What could she say? Your dad left because he wanted a normal daughter? She would never have admitted something that cruel to me, even if it were true.

Swallowing hard, I forced the note out of my mind. I saw it often enough already.

I grabbed a roll of packing tape as Elvis darted into the room. He jumped up on the edge of the box in front of me. When I reached out to pet him, he sprang to the floor and disappeared down the hall again.

Elle rolled her eyes. “I’m glad I agreed to take your psychotic cat while you’re away at school.”

A knot formed at the base of my throat. Leaving Elvis behind felt like losing another part of my mom.

I pushed the pain down deeper. “You know he’s not usually like this. It’s hard for animals to adjust when someone they love”—I still couldn’t say it—“when they lose someone.”

She was quiet for a moment before slipping back into her easy banter. “How much longer do you think this will take? I want to order pizza so it’ll be there when we get to my house.”

I surveyed the half-packed boxes and piles of clothes scattered around my room. In two days, a driver was coming to pick up the pieces of my life and take them to a school I had only seen in a brochure. “Is it weird if I want to stay here tonight?”

Elle raised an eyebrow. “That would be a yes.”

I stared at my walls, the plaster underneath exposed where I had peeled off bits of tape. “I just want it to be my room a little longer, you know?”

“I get it. But my mom will never go for it.”

I shot her a pathetic look.

She sighed. “I’ll call her and tell her we’re staying at Jen’s.”

“I kind of wanted to stay by myself.”

Elle’s eyes widened. “You can’t be serious.”

I didn’t know how to explain it, but I wasn’t ready to leave. Part of my mom would always be in this house, at least my memories of her. Breaking up chocolate bars in the kitchen to make her extreme brownies. Watching her paint my bedroom walls violet to match my favorite stuffed animal. Those were things that I couldn’t pack in boxes.

“My aunt is selling the house. It’ll probably be the last time I get to sleep in my room.”

Elle shook her head, but I knew she was going to give in. “I’ll stay at Jen’s and tell my mom you’re with me.” She walked over to my dresser and picked up the photo of the two of us with our blue tongues, the edges bending beneath the pressure of her fingers. “Don’t forget this one.”

“You keep it.” My voice cracked.

Her eyes welled, and she threw her arms around me. “I’m gonna miss you so much.”

“We still have two more days.” Two days seemed like forever. I would’ve killed for two more hours with my mom.

After Elle left, I peeled the yellowed tape off the edges of Berens’ The Great Escape. I tossed the poster in the trash, wishing I could escape from the cardboard boxes and the bare walls and a life that didn’t feel anything like the one I remembered.

I drifted in and out of sleep, fragments of dreams cutting through my consciousness. My mom’s body lying motionless on the bed. Her empty eyes staring at me. A bitter cold wrapping itself around me like a wet blanket. The sensation of something bearing down on my chest.

I struggled to sit up, but the weight was too heavy.

It felt like someone was holding a pillow over my face. I reached out blindly, trying to push it away. But there was no pillow. Just the air I couldn’t breathe and the weight I couldn’t move.

Blinking hard, I searched for something familiar to pull me out of the dream. There was nothing except a blurry silhouette looming above me.

No. On top of me.

Two eyes glittered in the darkness.

A strangled scream caught in my throat as the pressure bearing down on my chest intensified, and the room began to fade.…

Sounds brought me back—a crash, banging on the stairs, voices. The hall lights flickered, and I finally saw what was hiding behind those luminous eyes.

Elvis—crouched on my chest, mouth open and eyes locked on mine.

I inhaled sharply, but there was still no air. Elvis’ ears flattened against his head, and his jaw pulled back like a snake about to strike.

The bedroom door banged against the wall, and someone shouted, “Take the shot!”

Elvis whipped around toward the voice, and a rush of air burned through my lungs. A guy stood in the doorway with something black in his hand.

Who—

He raised his arm.

Was that a gun?

A shot rang out, and the weight lifted. I sat up, gasping and choking on the air my body so desperately needed. A sticky mist rained down over everything, stinging my eyes, and I squeezed them shut.

When I opened them again, I was too stunned to make a sound.

At the foot of my bed, a girl floated in the air above Elvis’ body. Pale and gaunt, her face marred with bruises and cuts, her blond hair hanging in tangled curls.

Bare feet dangled beneath her white nightgown.

It was the girl from the graveyard. Her bloodshot eyes found mine, frozen in a moment of pure terror. The girl’s neck was marked with two purple bruises, perfect imprints of the hands that must have killed her.

A second shot hit the strangled girl’s body, and she exploded. Millions of tiny particles fluttered in the air