The Merciless II Read Free

say. I brace myself for the silver flash of handcuffs, for the officer to jerk my arms behind my back and tell me I have the right to remain silent. “What’s wrong?”
    â€œI’m afraid your mother, Nina Flores, was in a car accident.”
    The words fall flat. It takes me a long time to process what he’s saying. “I . . . I don’t understand.”
    â€œSofia, your mother died in the ambulance on her way to the hospital. I’m so sorry.”
    I stare at the officer’s mouth. His lips are chapped, and there’s a tiny gap between his two front teeth. He’s still speaking, but I can’t hear him. The entire world has gone still. I tighten my fingers around the doorknob andfocus all my attention on the way my skin feels against the brass. The sweat gathering between my fingers.
    â€œMiss?” The officer’s voice jars me back to the present. “Is there someone else here you’d like me to speak to?”
    I shake my head. “I just spoke to my mother on the phone. She’s fine.”
    Something passes through the officer’s eyes. Pity . I curl my hand into a fist and bang it against the door. The wood rattles.
    â€œI’m sorry—”
    â€œYou’ve made a mistake!” I shout. But the anger dies as soon as the words leave my mouth. I feel weak. Empty.
    â€œIs your father home?” the officer asks.
    â€œHe died,” I say in a hollow voice. “When I was little.”
    â€œWhat about an aunt or an uncle?” I shake my head, and the officer lifts his walkie-talkie to his mouth. “We’re going to need CPS here right away,” he says.
    CPS —Child Protective Services.
    â€œRoger that, over,” comes crackling over the radio.
    â€œThat’s okay. I’m okay, thank you.” I close the door before he can say another word. I can still see his shadow through the cloudy glass panes on either side of the door. He stands on our porch for a moment; then I hear the sound of his shoes on the stairs, walking away. He’ll be back. Along with a bunch of strangers who’ll decide what to do with me.
    I press my hand flat against the wall, steadying myself. Your mother died in the ambulance on her way to the hospital. I shake my head. It’s not real. I just talked to her. We’re going to eat Chinese food and watch The Wizard of Oz .
    I grab my cell phone and I dial Mom’s number. The silly Cheerios photo pops onto my screen. Something in my gut twists.
    Mistake, I tell myself. This is all a mistake . Mom’s fine. I lift the phone to my ear and hold my breath, waiting for her to pick up.
    The phone rings. And rings. A hollow space opens inside my chest. It feels as if someone has tunneled through my internal organs, leaving a hole straight through the middle of my body. Mom always answers my calls, even when she’s on duty.
    I let my mind travel to the dark place. Your mother died . My hands start to tremble. Car accident .
    A cruel voice echoes through my head. And why was she in the car, Sofia? it asks, sounding eerily like Brooklyn. I swallow, tasting something sour at the back of my throat. Mom was only driving because I begged her to come home early. Because I couldn’t stand to be here alone.
    The phone slips from my fingers, but I don’t hear it hit the floor. The sound of static erupts in my ears.
    This is my fault. And now I’m alone—an orphan.
    I don’t remember walking across the living room and climbing the stairs, but when I look up, I’m standing in front of Grandmother’s room. Deep red light spills into the hall. It’s the color of the wine they serve during communion. The color of blood. Rosary beads click against the table.
    â€œ Abuela ?” I push the door all the way open. Grandmother is sitting upright in her narrow hospital bed, sliding the rosary beads through skeletally thin fingers. Several years ago, she had a