The Lightkeepers

26

I turned to face her, letting my arms drop. I couldn ’ t meet her murky eyes. She took my

hands in hers and turned them over. My palm lines and fingerprints stood out in the dried blood

that had painted my hands. She led me down the stairs, forcing me to pass the window Ellie and I

shared. Water trickled into the metal basin that we used as a bathtub. My eyes followed the hose

that went from the tub through a section of broken glass in the window to the outside oil drum that

we collected water in. If I glanced out the window, I ’ d see the drum suspended by chains and a

sturdy frame over a crackling fire. I didn ’ t dare pull the curtain back to look. Lit candles brightened

the windowsill.

My mother left me standing at the edge of the filling tub, staring at the steam rising from

the water. I drew the curtains around the makeshift tub and grabbed a towel from the pile. Gingerly,

I peeled off my layers of clothes, ignoring the shades of crimson on my hands. Slowly, I eased

myself into the tub, looking up at the floral fabric hung under the stairs. In the candlelight, I could

make out its faded colors and muted flowers. Realizing the amount of water in the tub, I turned the

valve on the hose line and shut it off. Grabbing the bar of soap from the window, I scrubbed

furiously at my hands and wrists. Part of the water had been tinted a light rose color. The color

swirled and shimmered in the water, taunting me.

No sooner had I finished, I got out and dried off. I left my clothes in a heap by the tub and

blew out the candles. As I climbed the stairs, I clutched the towel to my body. Goosebumps lined

my skin. Coming to my landing, I stopped. Standing in the middle of it, I stared at the little niche

where Ellie and I slept.

Had slept, I corrected bitterly.

Snapping back to reality, I drew the curtains on either side and pulled on a pair of

sweatpants and a sweater. I crawled into the window, curling up into a tight ball. I kept my back

to our wall of pictures.

When I finally woke from my fitful sleep, the sun was high in the sky and tall drifts of

snow blanketed the outside. My stomach grumbled, and I unwillingly sat up. Stretching,

something clinked on the metal landing. Hanging off the edge to investigate, I gasped.

I numbly picked up the gold, heart-shaped necklace that I recognized all too well.

Ellie ’ s necklace.

She must not have put it on yesterday morning. Without a second thought, I slipped the

fragile chain over my head. The pendant rested just below the neckline of my shirt. I swayed on