The sharp, chemical sting of antiseptic was the first thing to pierce the darkness.
Delois slowly peeled her eyelids open. The dull, rhythmic throbbing at the base of her skull made her stomach roll with nausea.
She was lying in her own bed. The heavy curtains were drawn shut, casting the room in a dim, gray light.
She turned her head slightly. Her mother, Blanca, was sitting in the worn wooden rocking chair beside the bed. Blanca's head was resting against the back of the chair, her eyes closed, deep lines of exhaustion etched into her face.
As Delois shifted her weight, the mattress creaked.
Blanca's eyes snapped open. She leaped out of the chair and hovered over the bed, her hands fluttering nervously over Delois's blankets.
"You're awake," Blanca breathed, her voice thick with unshed tears. She reached out and gently brushed a stray lock of hair away from Delois's bandaged forehead. Then, her face hardened. "You foolish, foolish girl. Why did you jump in front of your brother's fist to protect that Hawkins boy? He's a menace!"
Delois forced a weak, pale smile. She reached out from under the covers and wrapped her fingers around her mother's rough, warm hand.
"I'm sorry, Mama," Delois whispered, making her voice sound small and fragile. "I didn't think. I was just so scared when I saw the punch coming. It was just a reflex."
Blanca sighed, the anger melting away instantly. She leaned down and carefully tucked the quilt tighter around Delois's shoulders.
Before Blanca could speak again, the brass handle of the bedroom door clicked. The door swung open with a slow, deliberate creak.
Felicie, her eldest sister-in-law, stepped into the room.
Felicie carried a wooden serving tray. On it sat a ceramic bowl steaming with hot soup. Felicie's face was arranged into a mask of perfect, gentle concern. Her smile was sweet, but her eyes darted quickly around the room, assessing the situation.
"Oh, Delois, thank goodness you're awake," Felicie cooed, her voice dripping with artificial sweetness. She walked to the edge of the bed. "I brought you some hot chicken soup. You need to keep your strength up."
Felicie picked up the spoon and gently blew on the hot liquid, playing the role of the devoted, caring sister-in-law to perfection.
Blanca nodded approvingly. "That's very thoughtful of you, Felicie. Put it on the nightstand."
Delois stared at Felicie's face. The moment she looked at her sister-in-law, the horrific memories from her coma-dream slammed into her brain.
A wave of cold, physical revulsion washed over her. Her skin crawled.
This was the woman who had whispered poison in her ear, encouraging her to chase Julian. This was the woman who had systematically stolen food and money from the Thornton house to give to her own lazy brothers. This was the parasite that had bled their family dry.
Delois's eyes narrowed. The weak, confused girl vanished. Her gaze turned sharp and calculating.
She didn't reach for the bowl. Instead, she stared directly into the soup.
The liquid in the bowl was perfectly clear. A thin layer of grease floated on top, but beneath it, there was nothing but a few sad, bony chicken necks and a single, meatless chicken foot.
Delois's memory was crystal clear. Just yesterday afternoon, she had watched her father, Harding, walk into the kitchen carrying a massive, incredibly fat hen he had bought at the market.
Delois slowly lifted her gaze from the bowl and locked eyes with Felicie.
She widened her eyes, putting on a flawless act of innocent confusion.
"Mama?" Delois asked, her voice loud enough to echo in the quiet room. "I don't understand. Papa brought home that huge, fat hen yesterday. Why is there absolutely no meat in this bowl? Where are the chicken breasts? Where are the thighs?"
Felicie's sweet smile instantly froze. The wooden tray in her hands gave a violent, uncontrollable jerk, sloshing a few drops of hot broth onto the floor.
Felicie's eyes widened in panic. She refused to look at Blanca. She stared at the wall, her breathing suddenly shallow.
"Oh... well," Felicie stammered, her voice high and tight. "You know how it is, Delois. I... I boiled it for a very long time. The meat must have just... melted into the broth. Yes, it just melted off the bones."
Delois felt a cold smirk tug at the corner of her mouth. The lie was so stupid it was insulting. Meat didn't vaporize into clear water.
She threw the heavy quilt off her legs, The time for resting was over.
