Lies We Bury(84)

Slowly, Lily walks toward the butler’s pantry, the old wood announcing each step. Jenessa moves me past a small table and through the other archway into the living room. Floorboards moan beneath us as we step past the fireplace.

Lily whirls back into the front room and sees us. Her eyes pull wide, and her face pales. Her hands fly to her belly in the dress she wears. “What is going on?”

Jenessa stares her down like a dog poised to attack a wounded bird. “What are you doing here, Lily? Don’t tell me Chet asked you to meet, too.” Jenessa’s nails dig into my arm with each word she growls.

Lily glances at the body, then back to us, torn between the two horror stories before her. “He came to my place, but I pretended I wasn’t home. What is going on? Why do you have a gun to Marissa’s head? Where are we?” Lily’s voice jumps an octave. She breathes in through her nose, and her chest rises and falls with a frenzy I haven’t seen since we were kids.

I can’t see her face, but Jenessa scoffs in my ear. “So you came here, to this address, all on your own. When you’ve barely contacted me since you’ve been back for—what—a week?”

Lily hesitates. “We—we spoke yesterday. I’ve had a lot going on—”

I shake my head an inch to the side, but it’s too late. The gun barrel presses harder into my temple. Jenessa’s breath is hot on my neck, her own trembling shaking my arm.

“Not so much that you couldn’t see Marissa. Right? You want her? Here!” Jenessa flings me across the room, and I shift at the last second to avoid crushing my pregnant sister. Lily falls backward, slumps against the wall, and I knock over a lamp from an end table. The electrical cord tangles at my feet.

Lily moans and clutches her stomach. “Em, I think I’m—I’m having another contraction.” She tries to breathe through it on the floor while watching Jenessa, but her eyes clamp shut from the pain.

“How sweet that you two have become—no, remained—so close. Since you grew up together. Since no one separated you when we got out.”

“Jenessa, I was a child. I was selfish and stupid and jealous of your relationship with Rosemary. I had no idea what life would be like for you with Nora; I’m sorry.” I try to imbue my words with calm, stability—find some way to get both Lily and me out of here alive.

Lily pants below me, the contraction subsiding.

Jenessa hits a button on the wall, and the fireplace surges to life. Flames lick the iron screen before she kicks it aside, sending it clattering against the coffee table. “Wasn’t this always your favorite form of self-harm?” she simpers to me. “Come closer, Marissa. If you’re too scared to stand near me, why not approach your old friend?”

The burns on my arms seem to light up like an arcade game under her gaze. “You don’t know what I went through, either, Jenessa.”

“No? Poor little Marissa. My small-town neighbors think I’m dangerous. Just looking at you is aggravating. As long as you’re walking free, I’ll never be seen as more than a broken version of you. The media’s favorite fuckup and first person they harass until I can’t stomach a full meal from all the stress.” Spittle flies from her lips as her volume rises with each word.

“When you began taking photos for the Post, I started planting evidence that pointed to you. I wanted to frame you for the murders, make you every bit the pariah I’ve been all these years. But maybe I was too soft in taking the longer route to get to the same place.” Her lips part, baring her teeth, as she raises the gun to my chest once again. “Maybe there’s room for one more on my list of victims.”

Terror freezes my limbs and cements my feet—my body bracing for what’s to come. “Jenessa, please. Let’s talk about this. You don’t have to—”

A scream rips through the room as Lily shoots up from the ground, launches herself at Jenessa, knocking the gun free and Jenessa to the floor. They scramble for it, but Jenessa grabs the gun and pushes Lily out of the way. Lily screams again—a deep, agonizing sound that claws at my insides.

Jenessa hesitates, seeing Lily in torment, and I reach into my bag and find the orange I took from the Post. I launch it at her head and miss, and the fruit knocks a framed painting free from the wall behind. Jenessa startles, and I throw myself toward her and wrap my hands around the gun. I twist the barrel up toward the ceiling, and a shot goes off, sending plaster and dust everywhere; high-pitched ringing erupts in my ear canal.

Jenessa kicks my foot out from under me, and I land on my bad shoulder on the iron screen. I cry out, then roll to my side but still don’t release the weapon. Jenessa wrenches it this way and that, but I don’t let go. She thrusts my arm into the fire, and a banshee shriek tears from my lungs. Heat boils my hand and wrist; then I feel only cold, adrenaline no doubt flooding my limbs, before the metal begins to boil beneath the blue and yellow flames. I yank my arm back, and the force knocks her off-balance and into the jaws of the blaze. She arches at the last second so that only her long hair singes. The acrid smell instantly fills the room. I snatch the gun from her by the handle and crawl backward to where I knocked over the lamp. Lily lies propped against the couch, away from Chet, clutching her stomach and breathing hard.

A siren wails nearby. Then closer. Closer. Before it slows outside the house.

I look at Jenessa, cradling my hand. The tips of her hair still smoldering, she seems wild, plucked from hell and bent on spilling more blood. Her eyes scan the room, then pause on the coffee table. The scissors on the coffee table.