My mother's husband wants me

Lily was nine years old when she watched her mother strangle her father to death.

It happened in the middle of the night, while her father slept, unaware that his wife stood over him with murder in her eyes. Roselyn had learned that her husband knew about her affair. He had caught her with another man, and he had said nothing yet, but she knew it was only a matter of time.

The affair itself did not frighten her. Divorce did. Everything Roselyn had, the house, the cars, the jewelry, the comfortable life she had grown used to, belonged to her husband. She had never earned a single thing of her own. If he left her, she would be left with nothing.

Roselyn could not allow that.

Lily had woken to strange sounds drifting down the hallway from her parents' bedroom. At first she thought her father was sick, and she crept toward the half-open door to check on him. Then she saw her mother. Roselyn's hands were locked around her father's neck.

Lily's small body went rigid.

She wanted to scream. She wanted to run to him, to pull her mother away, to make it stop. But fear had turned her limbs to stone, and all she could do was stand in the shadows and watch her father struggle beneath the woman who was supposed to love him. His hands clawed weakly at the sheets. His face twisted with confusion and terror. Then his movements slowed, and slowed, and finally stopped.

Silence settled over the room.

Roselyn removed her hands and stood there breathing steadily. There was no panic on her face, no trembling, no tears. She simply began to clean. She wiped down everything she had touched, straightened the blankets, and moved through the room with a calm so complete that Lily felt sick. It was as though killing the man she had married was just another unpleasant task to be handled and forgotten.

Lily pressed both hands over her mouth. She could not cry, because if she made a sound, her mother would know she was there.

Then her elbow brushed against the stuffed bunny she had carried down the hall, and it slipped from her arm. It hit the floor with a soft, unmistakable thump.

Roselyn stopped.

Lily's heart hammered so hard she thought it would give her away. Slowly, her mother turned her head toward the door. For several long seconds, neither of them moved. Then Roselyn's gaze slid past the shadows and back to the bed. She had not seen her.

Lily did not wait for a second chance. She snatched up her bunny, ran back to her room, and burrowed under her blanket, squeezing her eyes shut until morning came.

That was the last time she saw her father alive.

Even at nine years old, Lily understood that he was gone. But she also understood that no one would believe her. In the days that followed, Roselyn told everyone that her husband had abandoned the family. She cried whenever the neighbors asked about him, dabbing her eyes and speaking in a trembling voice, and people brought casseroles and pity to the door of the woman who had been left behind.

Lily said nothing. She was more afraid of her mother than she had ever been of anything.

A month later, her older brother, Ethan, came home from abroad.

She heard the car first, and then his voice in the hallway calling her name. She ran to him, and he swept her off her feet and spun her around until she giggled for the first time in weeks. He smelled like airplanes and cold air, and he had brought her a small music box wrapped in silver paper. Ethan had always been the one who carried her when she was tired, who made her laugh when their mother ignored her. For one bright moment, Lily believed everything might finally be all right.

Then Ethan set her down, walked toward his mother's bedroom to say hello, and found the door open.

Roselyn was inside with a man Lily had never seen before.

Ethan's face changed instantly. The joy drained from it, replaced by a fury Lily had never seen on her gentle brother. Roselyn scrambled to cover herself and began to stammer excuses, but Ethan did not hear a word. He crossed the room and grabbed the man by the collar.

Lily followed the shouting to the doorway. When she saw the stranger standing beside her mother, something hot and confused rose in her chest. She did not know his name, but she understood what he was. He was the reason her mother had betrayed her father. She ran at him and tugged at his sleeve with both small hands, trying to pull him away.

The man barely noticed her. He shoved past her and grappled with Ethan, and the two of them crashed against the dresser. Lily stumbled back, frightened and bewildered, as everything happened too fast to follow. Then the man's hand closed around a heavy glass vase.

"Big brother!" she cried, but it was too late.

The vase struck Ethan's head with a sickening crack, and he dropped to the floor.

The room fell silent.

For a moment, Lily could not move. Then the fear left her all at once, pushed aside by something stronger, and she rushed to her brother's side. She dropped to her knees and grabbed his shoulders.

"Big brother," she whispered. "Ethan, wake up."

He did not answer.

She shook him harder. "Why aren't you answering me? Please wake up."

Hot tears spilled down her cheeks and landed on his shirt. Ethan lay still, his eyes closed, the silver music box paper crumpled in his open hand.

Above her, Roselyn stood frozen. When Lily looked up, she saw something she had never seen on her mother's face before. Roselyn was afraid. She had not planned this, and for a moment, she looked like a woman standing at the edge of something she could not undo.

The man looked down at Lily, then turned to Roselyn. "She saw everything. What do we do with her?"

"What do you mean, what do we do with her?" Roselyn's voice shook. "She's my daughter."

"And you're the one whose lover just killed her brother," he said coldly. "Do you really think she'll keep quiet?" He stepped closer. "We fix this together, or I expose us both."

Lily barely heard them. She was still shaking Ethan's shoulder, whispering his name.

The man spoke again. "We need to get rid of the body."

Lily's head snapped up.

Roselyn's face was unreadable. "Fine," she said quietly. "We dispose of the body."

Lily scrambled to her feet and planted herself in front of her brother, her tiny frame trembling. "Mommy, take Ethan to the hospital."

Roselyn only stared at her.

"Mommy, please."

The man laughed. "The hospital?" He shook his head. "No chance."

Roselyn swallowed. "We're not doing that."

Lily looked from one of them to the other, and something inside her broke. She had already lost her father. She could not lose Ethan too.

"If you don't take him," she said, her voice cracking, "I'll tell everyone you killed Daddy."

The room went still.

Roselyn's eyes widened. She stared down at her daughter as though seeing a stranger, and Lily almost wished she could take the words back. Slowly, her mother walked toward her, then lowered herself until they were eye to eye. The expression on her face frightened Lily more than anything she had seen that night.

"Lily," Roselyn whispered, "if you don't behave, you won't live long enough to tell that story."

Lily backed away. Roselyn reached for her, but the man caught her wrist.

"Roselyn, have you lost your mind?"

She turned on him, and he lowered his voice. "If three people die in a row, you'll be the first person the police look at. Nobody even knows Ethan is back yet, so we can make him disappear. But Lily has been in this house the whole time, and the neighbors love her. If something happens to her, people will start asking questions."

Roselyn said nothing. He tightened his grip on her wrist. "Think."

She pulled free and looked down at her daughter, then at Ethan's body on the floor. When she straightened, the fear had vanished from her face. She lifted her chin.

"You're right," she said.

The man smiled. Then his eyes moved to Lily, and his smile widened.

"Well," he said softly, "I have an idea."