The Merciless II Read Free Page A

stroke that left half her body paralyzed. She lost control of the muscles in her cheeks, making her face look like something melted. Skin drips from her face like candle wax, and one side of her mouth curves in a perpetual frown. I see her scalp through her wispy white hair.
    I step inside the room, shifting around the cardboard boxes of Grandmother’s things. Mom and I always said we’d unpack them, but we never found the time to do more than put away her clothes and lean a few of her pictures against the walls. Her favorite framed needlepoint sits on the table beside her bed.
    A peaceful heart leads to a healthy body , it reads. Jealousy is like a cancer in the bones . Proverbs 14:30.
    The pain hits all at once, like a blow to the chest.
    Mom and I are never going to unpack the rest of Grandmother’s room. She’s never going to pick up mycalls or eat Cheerios or watch that scene in The Wizard of Oz that she loves, the one where Dorothy falls asleep in the field of red poppies. She’s gone. Forever. Because of me.
    My legs crumple beneath me, and I sink to the floor, banging my hip against Grandmother’s bedside table on my way down. The needlepoint falls over, sliding back behind the table. I’m shaking all over. I can’t breathe. I cup my hands around my mouth and inhale, but my exhale explodes into a choked sob. I cover my face with my hands and cry.
    I wish I could go back in time and tell her not to get in that car. I don’t need Chinese food and movies. I’m not scared anymore. I can be brave, just like her.
    Grandmother stares straight ahead, clutching the rosary to her chest. Her brittle nails curl over the tips of her fingers, all yellowed and cracked. I stare at them for a long time. Painful sobs rattle through me.
    â€œ Abuela ,” I manage to spit out. I wipe the tears from my cheeks with the back of my hand, but they refuse to stop pouring down my face. “Mom is . . . she’s . . .”
    Grandmother’s neck muscles aren’t strong enough to hold her head straight anymore, and it bobbles, slightly, as she turns. She looks at me with milky, unseeing eyes and I realize she understands. She’s outlived her only daughter.
    I crawl across the floor and rest my head against her mattress. Rain crashes against the window, pounding so hard that I worry the glass will shatter. I think of all the empty houses sprawled around us. Street after street of vacant rooms and overgrown lawns and muddy driveways. I’m suddenly aware that I’m about to get my wish—we can’t stay in this house now that Mom isn’t coming back. I’ll finally get to leave this stupid town. Not that it matters anymore.
    Grandmother touches my head. Her hand is nearly weightless, and her skin feels almost exactly like crumpled paper. She pats, absently, as if she’s not entirely sure what she’s doing.
    The heavy grip on my heart loosens, just a little. I close my eyes and rest my head against her leg.
    The muscles in Grandmother’s hand tighten. She digs her long, cracked fingernails into my skin. Pain shoots through my neck and I jerk away, horrified.
    â€œ Diablo! ” Grandmother says in a thin, raspy voice. She lifts a curved finger that looks like a claw and points at me.
    â€œDon’t,” I whisper. “Please, Abuela .”
    â€œ Diablo! ” she says again. I slink away from her and sink back against the wall, shaking with sobs.

CHAPTER THREE
    T wo days later, I’m standing in a graveyard, staring at the flag-draped casket that holds my mother’s decaying body.
    A steely-gray sky stretches above me, heavy with storm clouds. The temperature has dropped below fifty degrees for the first time since I moved to Mississippi, and cool wind cuts through my dress. I shiver, clutching a bundle of poppies to my chest. A handful of petals flutter from their stems and scatter in the wind. The man who handled the