The oversized shirt hung over his tiny body, making him look even thinner and more pitiful.
“From now on, don’t ever say you’re bad again.”
I pulled him onto the sofa, took out the first-aid kit and carefully applied ointment to his bruises with a cotton swab.
His body was stiff, completely still as I worked.
“If it hurts, tell me.”
“It doesn’t hurt…” he whispered. “Mom says if she blows on it, it won’t hurt.”
At the mention of Emily, my hand froze.
“She… was good to you?” I asked.
“Mom was the best to me,” Arson’s eyes lit up briefly, then dimmed again. “But Mom was never happy. She would hug me and cry.”
“She also said… I should grow up fast, run fast and not get caught.”
Run?
Caught by who?
My mind was a tangled mess.
Emily’s death, Linda’s abuse, the unknown “smart pills,” and now this warning—“don’t get caught”…
All the clues pointed to a terrifying truth.
Just then, my phone rang.
It was a number I hadn’t contacted in ten years.
Harry.
I went to the balcony and pressed the answer button.
“Millie,” came the tired, hoarse voice on the other end. “Something happened to Emily.”
“I know,” I said coldly. “I saw the news about her.”
“Her son… Arson… is missing. Did she… ever contact you?”