Page 115 of Glass

“I’m sorry,” I rush out, the guilt filling me. “I’m so sorry. They say to do that – I read it somewhere. Can I get you anything, Ella?”

She sniffs. “Coffee.”

I try to smile. “Okay. Whatever you need.”

***

“Where the hell is it?”

My mother rounds on me. I’m on my knees, cleaning the kitchen floor. “What?”

“Don’t you fucking lie to me, you little thief,” my mother snarls. “The ring! What have you done with it?”

My heart pounds, but I keep my eyes steady on hers. “I haven’t seen it.”

“Liar,” she hisses. “We need that damn ring, Anastasia. We have no money left!”

Ella sits at the table, sipping from the cup of coffee I’ve just made her. “She’s a little liar, Angelica. I’d beat it out of her, personally.”

“Don’t tempt me.” My mother throws herself into a chair. “When you’ve finished with that, Anastasia, my bathroom needs to be cleaned.”

“Mine too,” Ella cuts in, her lips curling up. “We all need to play our part without the staff here, after all.”

I open my mouth, and then close it again.

“Fine.”

And when I leave the room, I slide my hand down to check.

It’s there.

Safe fromthem.

And soon, I’ll be away from them. My college application was posted yesterday. I’ll apply for every grant under the sun, but I’m going.

***

“Mother?”

I say the words softly. But Angelica cries out, her body painfully thin as she writhes on the bed. My heart in my throat, I wipe her down again before I pull the blankets over her, trying to shield her from the cold.

Ella leans against the door.

“We need more painkillers,” I say to her over the sound of my mother’s cries. “Can you go and get some? Please?”

“I’m busy.” She stares at my mother, her lip curling in distaste. “I have a date.”

Good. If she’s eating, that means more food for mother. I can’t stretch our money anymore, the bare minimum left barely enough for one person to survive, let alone three.

And I really thought that I could go to college.

“Fine. I’ll go.”

“Before you do, I need you to fix my dress.”

When I stare at her, she shrugs. “It’s either that, or I can’t go.”

I grit my teeth. “Fine.”