My Skin Needs Touch, Their Stomachs Turn novel Chapter 72

Chapter 4

Mom caught herself against the table before her legs could give out. Her head moved back and forth in

frantic denial.

“No. It can’t be her. Not my Lily.”

Dad went silent on the other end, the kind of silence that felt like death itself. “Just come home. The

coroner… they’re taking her away.”

The finality in his voice broke something in her. Her legs buckled, and she crumpled to the floor.

People rushed forward, trying to steady her. Mrs. Baker came down from the front of the room, alarm written

all over her face.

“Mrs. Evans, what’s going on? What happened?”

Mom didn’t seem to hear her. She scrambled to her feet and tore out of the classroom, a horrible wailing

sound ripping from her throat.

I stayed close behind her, watching the wild, unseeing look in her eyes.

“Mom, watch out!” The scream tore out of me, even though she couldn’t hear it.

She stumbled straight into traffic, and a truck swerved to avoid her, its horn blaring. The driver laid on his

horn and leaned out the window, shouting obscenities.

Mom didn’t even break stride, just kept running toward home. My name kept spilling from her lips, desperate

and broken. “Lily. Lily. Lily.”

Watching her unravel like this made my chest feel like it was caving in. I pressed my hands to my face, trying

uselessly to stop the tears.

“I’m so sorry, Mom. I made you miserable when I was alive, and now I’m making it worse even after I’m gone.”

“Please, Mom, you have to be okay. You went through so much pain to have me. Don’t let me hurt you any

more than I already have.”

When Mom reached the scene, someone had already draped a white sheet over my body. She lunged forward, reaching for the sheet.

“Don’t! Mom, please don’t look!”

I reached out, desperate to shield her eyes. I look too awful, Mom. I don’t want this haunting you forever

Dad caught her before she could reach it, pulling her back against his chest and holding her there “She’s

Chapter 4

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gone. Don’t… you don’t need to see this.”

“It can’t be! She’s strong-she’s survived worse than this!”

“Help! Somebody help her! Someone help her! She’s only six years old-she’s just a baby! Please!”

“Please…” The paramedics exchanged helpless glances and stepped back, giving her space.

Something in Dad finally snapped. “Enough! Sarah, she’s dead!”

“She’s gone. Screaming won’t bring her back.”

Murmurs rippled through the crowd.

“I live right below them. I hear them beating that poor girl, screaming at her, locking her out. No wonder she

did it.”

“I’d see her outside at midnight when I walked my dog-crying, hungry, playing with strays in the freezing

cold. What kind of parents do that?”

“I’ve seen her outside at midnight… crying in the cold. What kind of parents are they?”

“If you can’t take care of a kid, don’t have one!”

The accusations kept coming, wave after wave, drowning my parents. Dad kept his head down, silent. Mom sobbed against his chest, her breathing broken and ragged.

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