Page 38 of The Birthday Girl

A hush fell heavy as Tahlia rose from her seat.

She moved with solemn grace, fingertips brushing the strand of pearls at her throat.

Every camera inside the church followed her ascent as though the moment had been choreographed.

She reached the podium, rested both hands on the wood, and allowed the silence to stretch until it trembled.

Her lashes fluttered, and her lips parted as if the words themselves weighed too much.

Just as she was about to speak, the doors at the back of the sanctuary banged open.

Gasps scattered through the pews, and heads turned.

Reporters jerked their cameras around, and there was Danielle, framed in the doorway, both hands gripping the handle of a stroller she shoved forward with deliberate force.

Beside her, Miracle walked tall, chin raised, eyes daring anyone to block their path.

The baby stirred, fussing because of the noise, and Danielle leaned down to whisper that everything was alright, her expression fierce with a mother’s protectiveness and a daughter’s fury.

“Tyricka and I are here,” she announced, her voice breaking but loud enough to carry. “We’re family, too.”

The room fractured. Some people whispered, and some nodded their approval, while others shifted uncomfortably in their seats. The preacher froze, hands gripping the pulpit. Ezra stiffened on the front pew, his stomach twisting as he caught the look of anger flashing across Tahlia’s face.

She recovered almost instantly, lips curving into a trembling smile as though relief, not rage, had greeted her sister’s arrival, but Ezra saw it. He always saw it.

Danielle shoved the stroller forward, her voice breaking, but loud enough to slice through the stunned silence.

“Bitch, I don’t know why you’re up there playing with these people.

You killed our parents just like you killed my friends.

They can buy that shit if they want to, but I know the truth, and so do you! ”

Gasps snapped across the sanctuary, and the preacher’s hand froze midair.

Tahlia’s knuckles reddened as she gripped the podium.

Half the congregation leapt to their feet, shouting over one another, some in disbelief, while others were in agreement.

A woman wailed and covered her ears, and cameras lifted higher, recording every second.

The portraits of Steve and Tisha seemed to stare them down with frozen smiles while chaos churned beneath them.

The preacher cleared his throat, his voice heavy with warning. “Sister Danielle… this is a house of worship. We must keep our hearts open to healing, not—”

“I don’t need your sermon, Reverend,” Danielle snapped. “I’ve heard enough prayers to last a lifetime, and they still didn’t save my parents.”

Danielle stopped halfway to the pulpit, tightly gripping the stroller’s handle.

Her eyes shone wet under the pulpit lights.

“She knew,” she said, jabbing her finger toward Tahlia.

“She knew they were gone weeks ago, and she didn’t tell me.

Instead of picking up a phone or looking me in the eye, she planned this whole circus as if she were their only child. ”

Miracle stood at her side, arms folded, her chin tilted high in defiance. “Say it louder, Dani,” she urged, her voice carrying to the back of the sanctuary. “Let them hear you.”

The baby whimpered, as if even she felt the heat sparking in the room.

Danielle leaned over, pressed her lips to Tyricka’s crown, then straightened and lifted her chin.

“This is my daughter, t heir granddaughter, and she wasn’t invited either.

That bitch is the devil. Don’t be fooled by those fake ass tears! ”

Tahlia smiled, working overtime to keep her voice steady as she spoke. “Danielle, you’re welcome here. You’ve always been welcome. Grief makes us say things we don’t mean—”

“Cut the bullshit!” Danielle’s voice cracked so loud it bounced against the vaulted ceiling. “Don’t you dare stand up there and pretend like you give a damn about me saying goodbye to my parents. This was for you, the cameras, and the headlines.”

Ezra rose halfway from his seat, instinct telling him to intervene, but he caught himself, frozen by the spectacle. In Tahlia’s eyes, he saw a flash of rage burning through the mask before she swallowed it down. She looked like she might shatter the podium with her hands.

Danielle pushed her daughter’s stroller forward another inch.

“If they’re watching us from heaven right now, I want them to know one thing—” She turned her face toward the portraits, her tears catching the candlelight.

“I never abandoned you, and I never will. Also, I’m so sorry if what I’m about to do will embarrass you, but I’m about to whoop your daughter’s ass! ”

Danielle barreled up the aisle like she had nothing left to lose. Her heels slapped the tile in a complex, angry rhythm. People scrambled out of her way. The stroller bumped a pew, sent a woman’s hymnbook flying, and a man in the second pew swore under his breath as Danielle shoved past him.

“Move, goddammit!” she shouted.

She reached the podium and shoved her palm against the wood.

Tahlia’s smile snapped off like glass, and she stepped down from the dais before anyone could stop her.

Her hand flew through the air and connected with Danielle’s flesh, the sound ricocheting off the stained glass.

Five fingerprints bloomed instantly on Danielle's cheek, and her head snapped to the side from the impact.

Danielle grabbed Tahlia’s neck and swung back, her nails scraping her sister’s skin.

Tahlia shoved her, and Danielle stumbled into the podium.

She threw a right that clipped Danielle’s jaw, and Danielle answered with a left that connected with Tahlia’s ribs.

The sisters went at each other with everything they had.

Hair twisted around fists, and their breath came in ragged bursts as they fought for their lives.

An usher stepped forward and got shoved back so hard he hit his knee on a pew. A man in the front row stood up, a shout building in his throat, and another hand gripped the railing like it might be the only thing steady in a world tipping over. All the while, the cameras kept rolling.

Tahlia’s fingers closed around Danielle’s throat, and she slammed her onto the floor.

Her grip was sudden and brutal, the way someone clamps down when there is no other option.

Danielle gagged, her legs kicking and scrabbling against the polished floor.

People stood frozen, phones aloft, their faces open with horror.

Tahlia's face transformed. Her upper lip curled back, exposing her canines, and a low sound vibrated from somewhere deep in her chest. The whites of her eyes bloomed with spidery red lines as her pupils shrank to black needles, rage dilating in the whites of her eyes.

She hunched forward, shoulders rising to her ears, fingers digging deeper into flesh until Danielle's windpipe compressed with an audible creak.

Danielle's legs kicked, then stuttered as her eyes bulged and her tongue protruded between blue-tinged lips.

Ezra locked his arms around Tahlia's waist and wrenched her backward.

Her heels scraped across wood, leaving black streaks as she collided with his chest, her spine arching against him, mouth opening in a silent gasp.

Her eyes darted left to right as if searching for solid ground while her hands hung suspended in the air, fingers still curled into the memory of her sister's throat.

A deacon in a charcoal suit lifted Danielle by her elbow while Miracle swept Tyricka into her arms, the baby's face pressed against her neck as her eyes burned with fury. Danielle sagged against the man’s grip, her throat convulsing with each ragged cough.

She could feel the sting of Tahlia’s nails etched into her skin.

They were deep grooves raking across her throat like claw marks.

Blood slid warm from the corner of her mouth where Tahlia’s diamond ring had split her lip, and the taste of metal was sharp against her tongue.

“You’re—” Danielle tried to speak, but couldn’t finish.

The cameras were recording everything as the church rang with noise.

Ushers shouted, women screamed, and children cried as the preacher bellowed for silence.

Tahlia’s hand flew to her throat like she could feel the cameras through her skin.

She remembered the lenses in an awful, electric rush.

The realization hit her full in the face that every inch of what just happened was already immortalized.

Horror cracked her expression wide open.

She pushed past Ezra with a speed that startled him and ran without looking back. Moments later, the doors slammed closed behind her, and the people standing outside craned their necks, watching her disappear into the sea of reporters waiting outside.

Ezra stood in the aisle a moment longer, chest heaving, nerves rawer than they’d ever been. He watched Tahlia’s back vanish into the crush of cameras and men in dark suits. He had pulled her away, and he had saved her from life in jail, but he felt anything but relief.

The preacher’s voice floated over the noise. “Lord, have mercy. Order, please. Let us pray.” He lifted his hands, palms toward the ceiling, but the congregation was too fired up to follow along.

Danielle sank to her knees at the base of the pulpit, hands on the wood, chest heaving, blood drying at the corner of her mouth.

Miracle tightened her hold on Tyricka and met Danielle’s eyes.

She wanted to apologize, or maybe to confess, but there was nothing left that words could repair.

Her body shuddered from the adrenaline, her hands shaking as she wiped her mouth on her sleeve.

The memorial was over, and all that remained was the wreckage.