Page 39 of Borrowed

Cold and sweet.

Like the way honeysuckle smells before a storm.

Behind me, Father shifted his weight.

“You doin’ all right?”he tried again, softer.“They said you were improving.Sorry about your roommate, kid.”

I stroked Delia’s glass eye with the pad of my thumb.

“She’s hungry,” I murmured.“You didn’t feed them.That’s why she’s mad.”

Father didn’t say anything.

And from the kitchen, I heard Mother drop something glass.It didn’t break.

Not this time.

But I could feel her flinch all the way down the hallway.

“She’s mad,” I said again, firmer this time.

Father didn’t move.I could hear him swallowing like he was trying not to spit something out…words or bile, I wasn’t sure.

I traced the seam at the back of Delia’s neck where the fur stopped matching up just right.That was Toby’s fault.He’d helped me with her.He helped make her mine forever.

“You said you’d protect them,” I whispered to the shadow.“You promised.”

Father stood like he was balancing on a wire, teetering between backing out or stepping closer.I didn’t care either way.He wasn’t important here.Not like him.

Then I felt it.

That cold little nudge behind my ear, the one that made my skin stiffen and my lips twitch like I’d just remembered something sweet and wrong.

“You’re late,” I murmured.

A low hum slid down my spine, Toby’s laugh.The one that sounded like it was coming from underwater.

“You talk too much,” he said.“He doesn’t deserve to be talked to.He will give you more marks.”

I giggled.“I missed them.”

Father cleared his throat.“Tabitha?”

That name tasted like rot.Toby always said it didn’t suit me.It was Tabby.

“You shouldn’t let him call you that,” Toby whispered, leaning against the inside of my skull like he owned the place.

Maybe he did.

“Don’t worry,” I told him aloud, stroking Trumpet.“He’s going to forget I’m here soon.They always do.”

“Is your Mother okay?”Father tried again.His voice was trembling now.

Toby laughed louder.“He wants to ask if you’re gonna snap again…if you’ll scream about rabbits and blood.But he’s too scared to say it.Coward.”

I snorted.“He’s scared of everything.He doesn’t have his mean cat now.”

“Tabitha,” Father said again, this time like a warning.