Because You Love to Hate Me(91)

Tonight when they brought Kareena Thomas in, she reminded him of their previous meeting. The mother said, “Then you already know. You already know about my daughter.”

At the time, he didn’t know what to think or believe. Her older daughter, Calliope, had just died. She had set herself on fire. Or she was set on fire. It was his job to figure out which.

But Kareena Thomas was sure. She said, “It was Sera. Sera killed her.”

Of course he didn’t believe her. Whoever heard of a fourteen-year-old girl killing her older sister by setting her on fire? No. He’d seen bad things over the years.

But mostly men did the bad things. Not little girls.

But that was twelve hours ago, before people started killing one another on a massive scale. No, not people—only men. First a street. Then a neighborhood. If it continued, all the men of this city would die at one another’s hands.

And who was at the center of it all? Who was walking down the I-10? This woman’s daughter.

Sera.

Eyewitnesses said any man who crossed her radius went into an uncontrollable rage, like they couldn’t help themselves. Violence poured out of their souls. Not just men, but boys. Not just boys, but kids. Not just kids, but toddlers.

“I always suspected something was wrong, but I didn’t know,” she says. Her eyes are pleading for something. Forgiveness? “Do you believe some people are born evil?” she asks.

The detective looks at her with pity. “Tell me.”

II.





FOURTEEN YEARS AGO


SERA, AT BIRTH

She didn’t cry. She opened her eyes and looked and looked and looked and looked. She was beautiful.

All babies are beautiful.

SERA, AT THIRTEEN WEEKS

She didn’t cry.

Not ever.

SERA, AT EIGHTEEN MONTHS

Sera’s first word was “light.” Her sister’s had been “mama.”

SERA, AT NINETEEN MONTHS

Kareena and Patrick fought all the time now. Maybe it was the strain of having two kids instead of one. When it had been just Calliope, things had been easier. If Patrick was too tired, Kareena would take over, maybe take Callie to the playground or to a Mommy & Me movie. Or if Kareena was the tired one, Patrick took Callie to Kids Paint! at the museum, or tricycling around the neighborhood.

Now, though, there were no breaks.

And Callie was different, too. Needier. Shier. Fearful. It was like she’d disappeared into her own skin as soon as Sera was born. Like she was crouched down and afraid, hiding inside herself and watching. Watching her baby sister.

One night after both girls were asleep, Kareena dared to say the words she’d been thinking for nineteen months.

“Honey,” she said to Patrick. “Honey, Sera is so—” Here she struggled to come up with the right word. So many to choose from: “Strange.” “Unusual.” “Different.” She forgets now which word she did choose.

“Sera’s so _________, isn’t she?”

“All babies are _________,” he said, and rolled away from her in bed. Before Sera, they used to curl around each other and chat themselves to sleep. Her head on his shoulder. His hand on her thigh. Not these days, though. Most nights he was silent. Most nights he slept with his back turned to her. He was tired. He was always tired.

Kareena told herself that things would go back to normal once they adjusted to being a two-child family. Ever since Sera arrived, they felt outnumbered. No, “outnumbered” was the wrong word. Outgunned.

SERA, AT TWO YEARS, ONE MONTH

The playground was a war zone, and Kareena hated going. Toddler boys were little shits. The four-and five-and six-year-old boys played war games over and over again. They used dull grey pirate swords or sharply pointed sticks. The more invested ones had bright plastic guns.

Kareena wondered about the parents of those boys. They cared enough to make sure the guns were brightly colored and couldn’t be mistaken for real ones, but didn’t care enough not to give them guns in the first place.

Had she hated going to the playground with Callie when she was younger? Kareena didn’t think so. Maybe it was because Callie always avoided the warring boys. She chose the slide, the swings, the sandbox. Kareena was proud of her for avoiding them. Good instincts, my little girl, she thought.

But Sera was different. Sera watched and watched and watched the warring boys. She devoured them, eyes bright. Hungry. Kareena was sure Sera would hurtle herself into those boys if she could. If only Kareena would let her go, she would join them, become their general.

“Bang, bang, Mama,” Sera says after. “Bang, bang.”

SERA, AT TWO YEARS, FIVE MONTHS

Where do those blue eyes come from? Kareena wondered. She thought they’d have changed to brown by now. Both Kareena’s and Patrick’s eyes are brown. Callie had started off with blue eyes, but they were brown now, too.

In family photographs, Sera looked like a visiting relative. Distantly related.

SERA, AT TWO YEARS, TEN MONTHS

Callie said it hurt to hold her sister’s hand. Kareena told her she didn’t have to hold it if she didn’t want to.

SERA, AT THREE YEARS, TWO MONTHS

Kareena and another mom were standing at the edge of the preschool yard, watching their kids play. It was one of those moments of peaceful anonymity before the children realized their parents were back again to pick them up after another ostensibly joy-filled day at school.