Cursed (3 page)

No one that good-looking had a reason to be that creepy.

A quick check of Mom’s room induced the same urge I felt every time I looked in on her—the rampant need to throw something at her sleeping head. She sprawled across the bed, a broken, beautiful doll with deep red curls and porcelain skin. Mom was utterly useless. Was it even humanly possible to sleep as much as she did? Maybe she just pretended to sleep so much. I really didn’t know. Each day that’d passed after the accident, my mom had simply faded further away. Just like the memory of my dad’s face.

I approached her bed, folding my arms around me. “Mom?”

Silence.

“Mom, if… if you’re listening, Olivia really needs you.”

Nothing.

A burning kicked up in the back of my throat, and my chest felt like it was weighed down with cement. “She deserves better than this. She needs you to be her mom.”

Still nothing.

I whipped around and left her bedroom. The heaviness in my chest lingered as I pulled out the cash, separating just enough to cover the bare essentials.

We were running out of money. Dad’s life insurance would be gone within the next year. What would I do then? College was out of the question. Hell, finishing my senior year might be out the window if I needed to get a job sooner than I’d planned.

Downstairs, Olivia waited for me; her face stained with the remnants of her earlier tears. I looked away, feeling like an epic failure. “You ready?”

Tipping her chin down, she shrugged her tiny shoulders. She didn’t talk to me the whole way out to the Jeep. While she buckled herself in the backseat, I eyed the needle on the gas gauge and mentally counted the leftover funds.

“Emmie?”

I glanced over my shoulder at her. “What?”

Her eyes were wide, a vibrant jade color. There was something in them that gave me pause. Unease unfolded in the pit of my stomach, making my hands tremble.

“I have a really bad feeling,” Olivia said, picking at a patch of glitter on her dress. “Like the one I had before… before Daddy died. Do you remember? I have that feeling again.”

Of course I remembered
that feeling
.

But Olivia had been three at the time of the accident, and I’d barely paid attention to any of the babble that’d come out of her mouth.

I still remembered, though.

She’d leaned across the backseat and grasped my arm. “Something bad is going to happen,” she’d whispered.

And I’d frowned at her and ripped my arm away, annoyed because our parents had been arguing again—arguing about her. Shaking myself out of those memories, I rubbed my forehead, feeling a headache starting in.

“Emmie?” Olivia gripped the back of my seat.

I forced a smile for her. “Nothing bad is going to happen. I promise you.”

She looked doubtful, and it was like a punch in the gut.

“We’ll be in and out, and then Adam will come over later. You like Adam, right?”

She let go of the seat, falling back. “Yeah.”

“Okay. Good,” I whispered.

Since Olivia had successfully freaked me out, the trip to the store took longer than before. I was extra-wary of stoplights and other drivers. I breathed a sigh of relief when we pulled into the back of the packed parking lot.

Rain clouds had darkened the sky, causing several of the street lamps to flicker on. Fat drops splattered the dense woods surrounding the parking lot. I glanced at the clock on my cell, surprised to find it nearly seven o’clock.

Olivia hopped out the back, trailing behind me. “Can I push the cart?”

I welcomed the change in the mood. “Promise me you won’t run over any old people this time and it’s a deal.”

Olivia giggled as she wiggled between me and the shopping cart. There was no deal. She was death on wheels behind a shopping cart, but it helped me keep an eye on her and it would prevent another epic breakdown.

Old people, watch out.

Her head barely reached the bar as she inched the cart through the automatic doors. The place was packed for a Thursday, full of women in heels and men frowning at shopping lists.

Olivia rammed the display of bananas and then the back of my legs when I stopped to grab a bag of apples. “Beep! Beep! Beep!” She shrieked as she backed the cart up.

Limping over to the bread, I grabbed a loaf. My cell vibrated in my back pocket. Sticking the bread under my arm, I slid the beat-up thing out and flipped it open. It was a text from Adam.
Any news?

Still at store. Will text u when done
, I sent back.

Not even five seconds later I received,
U SUCK. OK. Text me
.

I grinned and headed back to the cart. I didn’t know what I’d do without Adam. It was hard to even think about it. I dropped the bread in the cart. “Olivia, what’s all over your face?”

She turned away quickly. “Nothing.”

“Whatever. There’s white powder all over your lips and—oh, my God!” I glanced around quickly, thankful no one was around us. “Did you eat the doughnuts again? They’re not free, Olivia!”

“No!”

“You’re such a little liar.” I knelt down in front of her, wiping off her lips with the sleeve of my cardigan, trying not to laugh. “I can’t believe you did that.”

“They shouldn’t put them out if they’re not free.”

My mouth dropped open, and then I cracked up. “You are so rotten.”

Giggling, she squirmed out of my grasp. There were no more eating food incidents, thank God. I got everything on the list, and Olivia had chosen a bag of Oreos as her cookies of choice. That made me pretty damn happy as I could already taste them. A whole row already had my name on it.

I groaned as I spied the lines at the register. “It’s going to be—Olivia!” Too late. She lost control of the cart, smashing it into the back of a brawny-looking man. I grabbed the cart, blushing furiously as I yanked it back. “I’m so sorry! My sister didn’t… crap.”

Dustin Smith stared back at me, rubbing the back of his leg with one hand and holding a case of soda in the other. His brown eyes bounced from my sister to my face. “You should get better control of the brat.”

Anger rushed to the surface. It was one thing talking smack about me, but my little sister? I stepped in front of Olivia, blocking her. “Don’t talk about my sister like that.”

He smirked. “I can talk however I want to.”

I itched to take off my gloves. “Not about her.”

“This is rich.” Dustin laughed. “What are you going to do about it? Throw your food stamps in my face?”

I
wished
we qualified for food stamps, but I still flushed. “You’re a jerk.”

“And you’re a frigid freak,” he spat.

So many witty comebacks floated to the surface. None of them would be appropriate for five-year-old ears. I turned to grab Olivia and just walk around Dustin, but she dodged my gloved hand. She walked right up to Dustin, her little hands balled into fists.

She kicked him in the shin.

So shocked by the pint-sized terror, Dustin dropped the case of soda. Brown liquid exploded off the tile, fizzing and streaming in dirty-looking rivulets. The right side of his pants was drenched with sticky liquid. We hadn’t drawn any attention up to that point, but several customers turned and stared at the mess.

Part of me knew I should yell at Olivia for kicking Dustin, but the other part, the really immature one, was secretly gleeful for the red stain rapidly spreading across his face.

“Smooth,” I said. “Got beat up by a little girl? Wonder what your friends would think about that?”

Before Dustin could respond, I ushered Olivia and the cart to the register furthest away from the mess. I bit my lip to keep from smiling as I knelt next to her. “Olivia…”

Her cheeks were ruddy, eyes bright. “He was mean to you.”

“I know, but you can’t kick people who you think are mean.”
Even if they did totally deserve that and more
, I silently added.

“Why not?”

I inched the cart up. “Because kicking people is mean, Olivia. And you don’t want to be a mean person like him, right?” She folded her arms, pouting. “No.”

“So, no more kicking?” I stood, pulling items out of the grocery cart. “Yeah. Okay.” She wiggled between the cart and a display of candy bars. “Can I have my cookies now?”

I shook my head, smiling. “In the car.”

Olivia smiled and giggled at the middle-aged woman ringing up our groceries, behaving like a precocious child instead of the ninja-child who’d kicked Dustin. That was my sister. She went from one extreme to the next within seconds.

I took over cart duty and pushed our groceries out to the back of the parking lot. It had poured while we were in the store, and Olivia insisted on jumping through every one of the huge puddles on the way to the car. I had her sit inside—with the package of Oreos—while I put the groceries in the back. She gabbed on about what she’d learned at school, something to do with words rhyming. It was dark and desolate in our corner of the lot by the time I shut the hatch and wheeled the shopping cart back to a nearby return.

I checked my cell, groaning when I saw the time. Olivia would need to go straight to bed when we got home, and I doubted Adam would still want to come over this late, especially when I had math homework.

As I shoved my phone back into my pocket, a tall, thick shadow stepped out from behind a large truck parked beside my Jeep.

I halted, my heart leaping into my throat.

Dustin stood between me and my car, the leg of his pants still soaked. For a second, I didn’t know what to do, but I decided to walk around him and ignore him.

“You think you’re funny, don’t you?” he called out, his voice hard.

I kept walking, my stomach filling with knots. Just a few more steps—that’s all.

“Hey! I’m talking to you, freak!”

I whipped around. “My name is not ‘freak.’ It’s Ember. You know that.”

Dustin laughed. “You’re whatever I call you. Freak? Bitch? Whore? Whatever.”

“I’m frigid
and
a whore?” I rolled my eyes, turning away. “So very clever, Dustin.”

A second later, Dustin grabbed my arm and spun me around. “I must’ve been on something when I thought you were worth my time, you know that?”

I yanked my arm free. “Is that supposed to insult me? Seriously?” “You think you got one over on me in the store? You’re going to be sorry. I’m going to make every day hell for you.” He laughed. “You can trust that.”

“Whatever.” I let my gaze drop. “Did you pee yourself?”

His arm struck out so fast I hadn’t even seen him move. My back slammed into the passenger door of the truck. Shock knocked the air out of my lungs.

“Emmie?” I heard Olivia’s soft cry from inside the Jeep.

Dustin got right in my face, a vein throbbing at his temple. “You’re nothing more than a scarred-up freak. Yeah, Sally told me how you’re all cut up.” He sneered. “You’re disgusting.”

It shouldn’t have hurt, but it did. Tears burned my eyes as I pushed off the truck and started around him again. I would not let him see me cry. Absolutely—

He grabbed my arm again as he dug into his pocket. “How scarred up are you? Sally said your whole stomach was covered.” Pulling out his cell phone, he laughed. “How about we do a little show and I tell the school? Better yet, how about I take some pictures?”

Over the blood rushing in my ears, I could hear Olivia crying out for me. “Don’t!” I wrenched back, but his grip tightened.

It was too late. Dustin grabbed the hem of my shirt, shoving his hand under it. Part of me wondered, in that brief second before his flesh touched mine, when Dustin had become such a bastard. He hadn’t always been
this
bad.

But then his hand was against my stomach, against my scars. The first time another human being had touched me in two years, and I wanted to puke.

His eyes popped open. The phone fell from his limp fingers, cracking when it hit the pavement.

Everything slowed down. A shiver slithered down my spine and coiled in my stomach. The sick sense of dread seeped into my veins like venom, familiar yet unwelcome. It reared, poised to strike, and then its sharp fangs bit deep. It was the same sensation I’d had right before I’d died.

Time seemed to stop.

Dustin’s eyes flared as the first wave of pain crashed into him. He went down on one knee, veins bulging in his forehead as his mouth worked in a silent scream. His hand was still against my stomach, as if he couldn’t let go.

I grabbed for his arm, but he started jerking like he was having a seizure. His normally tan skin turned sallow, and his hands spasmed.

When his eyes rolled back into their sockets, he fell backward like a puppet whose strings had been cut.

I stood over him, breathing heavily. “Dustin?”

He didn’t move.

I wrapped my arms around my waist, but that did nothing to stop the violent trembling. I knelt down, staring at his chest. One second passed. Five seconds, and then twenty, and his chest still hadn’t moved. My stomach rolled, almost forcing me to my knees. I backed up quickly, shaking my head.

He was dead—Dustin was dead.

And I had killed him.

Chapter 3

I
don’t even remember getting back in my car, but I was sitting behind the wheel, staring out through the windshield. The keys bit through my gloves into the fleshy part of my palm.

“Emmie?” Olivia’s voice trembled.

I’d killed Dustin. Something shifted in my stomach again, which I found strange, because I hadn’t eaten dinner. Every muscle in my body seemed to lock up. Then I heard the door being unlocked in the back. I twisted around in the seat. “Don’t! Don’t open that door, Olivia!”

She froze, her lower lip trembling. “What’s happening?”

My hands shook as I turned back around. “Nothing… nothing is happening.”

Olivia let out a sob. It was little and soft, but so heartbreaking. “Emmie, I’m scared.”

I was terrified, too. I’d just killed someone—a classmate, a guy I used to date. Dustin had a mother and a father, a little brother, and friends. People who loved him and would miss him.

Part of me knew I needed to do something about this—call someone, go to the police. Tell them what had happened. Then what? I’d be sentenced, but I doubted jail would be in my future. A research facility sounded more likely. What would happen to Olivia? She’d go into foster care, and that was enough to give me nightmares. I couldn’t let that happen, but I couldn’t just walk away. My gaze dropped to my gloved hand. Desperation welled up, choking me from the inside out.

What had I done?

Something knocked against the window. Olivia let out a muffled shriek. Startled, I jumped in my seat. A man peered in through the driver’s window, possibly in his late twenties or early thirties.

“Open the door,” he commanded in a voice that said he was used to people obeying him.

I stared at him wordlessly. Was he a cop? He didn’t look like a cop, unless cops had started wearing long dusters and cowboy hats in Pennsylvania. I might’ve laughed.

His mouth was a hard line, jaw locked. “Open the door, Ember.”

My heart did another crazy leap. I slammed my hand down on the lock before the guy could yank the door open. There was no reason this stranger should’ve known my name. Just like Hayden in the library. Two strangers in one day who knew my name didn’t seem likely.

The man hit the window, shaking but not shattering it.

Olivia was getting worked up in the back seat, snapping me into action. I shoved the key into the ignition, hands shaking.

“Don’t!” The man pulled on the door handle like he intended on ripping the door open. “Ember!”

The instinct to flee overpowered me. I turned the ignition and slammed on the gas. I caught a glimpse of the man jumping back before the tires ate a speed bump and curb.

We hit the main road, and I drew a shaky breath.

Olivia sniffled. “Emmie, what’s going on?”

I gripped the steering wheel. “I’m sorry, Olivia. I’m so sorry.”

She started crying again, and I think she knew what’d happened in the parking lot. Perhaps that was what she’d sensed earlier. Something bad
had
happened. Olivia had warned me, but I hadn’t listened.

“I’m sorry,” I said again.

Olivia only cried harder.

* * *

Numbness had taken over by the time we got home. I put away the groceries blindly and ordered Olivia to go to bed without looking at her. I sat down in the living room, ignoring Adam’s text messages. With the sound of every car that passed the house, I expected flashing red and blue lights. Any strange noise from outside had me peering out the window, expecting to find the cowboy or the police bearing down on our house.

Hot tears burned my eyes but didn’t fall as I stared at my cell. Several times I’d reached for the phone, fully intending to call the police and turn myself in. They had to have found Dustin’s body by now, and even though my touch hadn’t left any visible mark on him, his death could not be ruled natural. But then I thought of Olivia… and Mom. It wasn’t so much the question of who would take care of them, but the fact that I couldn’t leave them.

At some point during the night, Olivia came downstairs and crawled up on the couch. Carefully, she placed her head in my lap. The tears came then, coursing down my cheeks as I kept my hands shoved under my arms.

I tortured myself the rest of the night with images of me accidentally touching Adam, or worse yet, Olivia. I replayed my encounter with Dustin over and over again. Had there been time for me to move before he’d touched my skin? Was there something different I could’ve done?

Sleep didn’t come for me that night. Not that I deserved any sort of rest. When it was time for Olivia to get ready for school, I gently roused her. She lifted her head, her corkscrew curls all over the place.

I made myself smile. I had to act normal while I decided what I needed to do… or until the police hauled me off to jail. “Time to get up, sleepy head.”

Olivia scrubbed her eyes. “You’re still here.”

My breath caught. “Where else would I be?”

Her gaze dropped from my face to my hands. “Can we stay home today with Mommy?”

God, I wanted nothing better than to stay home, but I needed things to be normal for Olivia, at least until the world fell out from underneath us. “Not today, Olivia. You need to go to school.”

She didn’t argue like I’d expected her to. We went upstairs to get ready. There was no bouncing or humming today. I went through my morning routine like a zombie, barely paying attention to anything I was doing. There wasn’t even anger when I poked my head into Mom’s bedroom—just profound sadness.

I crept to the side of her bed. “Mom?” Holding my breath for a response—anything—I sat on the edge of the bed. My eyes started to leak. “Mom, please. I don’t know what to do. I didn’t mean to hurt him. I promise. It just happened.”

My mom gave a little sigh.

And my heart broke. “Olivia isn’t the only one who needs you. I do, too. I need you. Please come back.”

Today was no different to her. She didn’t respond, and I didn’t have any more time to wait. Dragging myself from the bed, I wiped the back of my hand under my eyes.

Olivia was silent on the way to school and squeezed my arm before she climbed out of the backseat. My stomach twisted in raw knots by the time I arrived at school. I expected to see police cruisers there, or at the very least, clusters of somber students mourning the loss of a friend.

Everyone was acting like they normally did, talking and laughing, pushing one another, or making out by their lockers. The halls were a study of controlled chaos, but there wasn’t a single teary-eyed face. And there were no deputies waiting to speak to students.

I kept my head down as I shuffled down the hall, stopping at my locker long enough to switch out my books. Slamming the door shut, I turned around and saw Adam’s concerned face.

“God, I’ve been so worried.” An old pair of glasses—with thicker frames than the wire ones he usually sported—made me think of owls.

“What happened last night?”

What happened last night?
I accidentally killed the guy who stole your other pair of glasses
. That’s what happened.

“Hey,” he leaned in. “Are you okay? You look like crap, Ember.”

“I… I don’t feel very well.” It wasn’t a lie. I felt like I was going to hurl.

“Did you get sick last night?”

I nodded. “Sorry. I should’ve responded to your texts.”

“Nah, it’s okay.” He waved his hand. “Do you think you should be here?”

Looking back, I wasn’t so sure if that had been a bright idea. My legs felt weak as I murmured something and trailed after him. The warning bell went off, causing most of the groups in the hall to scatter. Adam kept casting worried glances in my direction while I squeezed the strap of my messenger bag so tightly I knew my knuckles were turning white.

We slid into our homeroom seats without drawing any attention. Today it seemed that Adam and I were like ghosts in the high-school caste system. No one paid attention to us—to me, except to make my life miserable. I stared at my gloved hands for what felt like the millionth time since last night, waiting for the sword to drop.

* * *

Nothing happened.

No one talked about Dustin. His absence from biology hadn’t raised any suspicion, but I was still a mess of bundled nerves throughout the day. Adam made me promise that I’d call him if I needed anything. When I arrived at Olivia’s school to pick her up, I felt weak and dizzy. The lack of sleep and food wasn’t a good combination. I’d skipped the library and waited with the buses in front of her school.

A final bell sounded, and crowds of kids spilled out of the school, loading onto buses and approaching moms in minivans. I watched, trying to spot Olivia in the throng. It was slow to dawn on me that she wasn’t among them. Something heavy dropped in my stomach as I pulled the keys out of the ignition and climbed out of the car. I crossed behind the last bus, stumbling up the curb.

“Are you okay, miss?” a teacher called, clipboard on hand.

“Yeah,” I breathed, rushing inside. My hands shook, and I dropped my keys as soon as I stepped inside the front office.

“Can I help you?” the receptionist asked, eyes wide in alarm.

“I’m looking for my sister. Her name is Olivia McWilliams. She’s in kindergarten. She’s five and—”

“Yes,” she cut me off, pulling a pencil out of the pile of gray hair. She was obviously in a hurry to leave for the day. Her purse and coffee mug were on the desk. “I know who she is.”

“Okay. Good.” I took a deep breath and leaned over the counter, the keys’ jagged teeth digging into my palm. “She wasn’t outside. I—”

“Of course she wasn’t,” she said. “Her mother picked her up this afternoon.”

The room tilted to the side, spinning around me. “What?”

“Her mother picked her up right after lunch. I’m sorry. What was your name again?”

Almost in tears, I slammed my hands down on the counter. “My mother wouldn’t have picked her up!”

The old woman huffed before drawing herself up to her full height, which was shorter than me and that wasn’t saying much. “Miss, we just don’t let anyone come into school and take our children. It was Ms. McWilliams who picked up Olivia this morning. Now, what is your name?”

Rage flooded through me like a hot wave in my veins. The urge to react surged. I wanted to reach out and wrap my hand around her fat fingers. I wanted to
touch
her.

“Miss, what is your name?”

“How could you?” My voice sounded eerily calm. “That wasn’t our Mom.”

The woman blinked rapidly, shaking her head in denial. “No. She’s listed in our system, and she signed her out! Who are you?” she demanded. Other people were starting to come out of smaller offices. “Are you a family member?”

I backed up, clenching my hands into tight fists. There was nothing else to say. Spinning around, I took off. I’d go home next. There was a chance—a small chance—that it’d been Mom. I’d have a better chance of waking up and discovering the last twenty-four hours had been a nightmare, but the small sliver of hope was all I had. Desperate, I clung to it. My throat constricted when our house came into view. Mom’s beat-up station wagon was parked in the front of the house. It hadn’t moved since Dad’s funeral. The old wooden swing swayed on the front porch, sending darts of panic shooting through me.

There was no breeze.

Heart pounding, I climbed the steps and flung open the front door. The extra set of keys sat on the table by the door.

“Olivia?” I called out. “Olivia, where are you?” I went into the kitchen, then the living room, and finally rushed upstairs. “Olivia! Answer me now!”

Still, there was no answer.

Her bedroom was empty. “Oh, my God.”

I didn’t know what to do. I had no idea how long I stood there, staring at her empty bed. Nothing seemed real anymore. Only the blood rushing through my veins and slow desperation spiraled inside me. A sob rose in my chest.

I was supposed to take care of Olivia.

A sudden noise, like someone knocking into a piece of heavy furniture, raised the tiny hairs along the nape of my neck. Swallowing down icy fear, I wheeled around and stepped back into the hallway. I pulled off my gloves, clenching them in one hand. Could I kill again—on purpose?

Yes, if Olivia was in danger.

Sunlight spilled out into the hallway through my bedroom door. The room appeared to be safe, inviting even. Had I left my door open this morning? I couldn’t remember. Slowly, I inched toward the open door. For a moment, I thought the room was empty.

It wasn’t.

He stood in front of the door to my bathroom, wearing the same duster jacket from the night before. A mane of blond hair stuck out from underneath a cowboy hat. The sudden image of a lion crouching, waiting for its prey to stumble into its sight, flashed before me.

I realized a split second later I was the prey.

The lion sprang before I even had the chance to release the scream building in my throat. He didn’t say anything, but the look of fierce determination as he moved toward me, arms outstretched, said it all. Panic quickly turned into something else as I jerked back against the wall. Fury and desperation welled, spinning and bubbling over.

He reached for me.

Instead of touching him, I grabbed the lamp off the bedside table and hurled it at him. The base of the lamp struck his head, making a sickening thud and knocking off the cowboy hat.

The cowboy fell to the floor, unmoving.

“Well… that wasn’t necessary,” drawled a deep voice that tugged at my memory.

I shrieked and spun around.

Standing in my hallway was Hayden Cromwell. He held his hands out in front of him. “I don’t mean you any harm, Ember. I’m here to help you.”

“Help me?” I stepped back, brushing against the man’s leg. My stomach turned over as I looked at him. The cowboy hat lay beside him. Blood matted his blond hair. When had I become so violent? Had I always been this way?

“Don’t look at him, Ember. Look at me.”

It was like being compelled. I had no choice but to look at him. “Where is my sister?”

“Everything is fine. Your sister is safe. We have her—”