Page 43 of We Already Dug the Grave

The pink blanket fell to the ground as I pushed to my feet and walked to the kitchen. I filled the kettle. I poured the ice water down the drain, then scooped loose tea into Garfield’s hollow belly.

Frances once told me Einstein defined insanity as doing the same thing again and again and expecting different results. If that were true, then maybe my sister was right. Maybe I was crazy. Or perhaps I was teetering along the slippery slope Aunt Ruth had warned me about whenever she caught me peering into my own teacup.

Either way, action was better than inaction, and if there was even a minuscule chance things could be different this time, that Carla handing me my mug was a sign, then it was a chance I had to take.

Once, when we were girls, I’d explained the Sight to Frances as this place that stayed closed up inside of me until it didn’t. Until I eased open the door and it unfurled like one of Hattie-May’s blooms in my chest. That was a pretty way to explain the Sight, but it wasn’t always true, because the Sight rarely felt exactly the same way twice. Sometimes it was a whisper. Sometimes a scream. Sometimes a thing with a cocked head.

Sometimes it was a flower unfurling or dipping my head underwater. Other times it was like swimming through choppy waves when something grabbed my ankle and yanked me below the surface.

Though I’d managed it, had learned to finesse it and channel it and not freak out, I still never knew how the Sight would come upon me once I opened that door.

I felt it stir in me all the time, paying attention, whispering. Didn’t mean it would help. Especially now with this block in me. Fate’s a fickle bitch.

The water boiled. I poured. I downed the tea, then stared into Garfield’s belly.

I waited.

And waited.

And…a whisper. Sister sister sister…

I closed my eyes and reached for the door, pulled at it. I could feel it stirring, growing. Yawning. That place—that thing—alive inside me.

I focused into the conduit, blowing on the ember, hoping it would catch.

Nothing.

“Use me, dammit!” The words were desperate, riding a wave of sorrow as they spilled from my mouth. “Use me! Please. Show me something important! Haven’t I, more than anyone else in my family, paid the price? Give me something.” I sniffed. “Work for me.”

Pathetic. I was utterly pathetic.

I’d abandoned my old life out of necessity, but it felt like the Sight abandoned me out of spite.

It would’ve been better if it had completely removed itself from my life, but I couldn’t tolerate this small, continuous betrayal. Sister sister sister.

I leaned against the counter, utterly defeated. Another scream rose in my chest, but if I screamed now, I may never stop.

Sister sister sister. The whisper. The leaves. Nothing changed. When it came to my fate, it was all her and only her.

The mug dangled from my fingers. Maybe I should throw it, watch it shatter against the wall. My eyes darted down, as if weighing the thought. And then.

My breathing hitched.

A stirring. A stretching. The leaves—sister sister sister—remained, but I closed my eyes, hand on the internal door, yes, easing it open.

Suddenly it burst against its hinges, unhinged its endless maw.

And swallowed me.

The briefest flash of something. But no. I shook my head, opening my eyes. Peered at the leaves. No, that’s a memory. I’ve seen it before…

I gasped.

Garfield tumbled from my fingers and shattered against the tile floor.

No. Not that. Not again.

I’d begged for the Sight to use me, and how quickly I regretted that plea.