A stickiness seeped into my pants, staining my skin. Slowly working my hands across the back of her skull, my palm sank into a matted mess of wet hair. My fingers traced a gash where her skull should be, but instead gaped open. Trying to pull her upright against me, her body slid across the floor. So much blood. Too much. I hefted her up to my chest, cradling her as best I could, as our groans joined in unison. I felt my back pocket for my phone, feeling instead the thin crumple of the envelope. My reason for being here. The same reason my daughter was bleeding out.

Pain swept across my temples as the stress intensified. I needed to call 9-1-1 now. Where was my cell phone? Had I brought it with me? No, I couldn’t remember where I’d left it. The car I’d hidden down the street, maybe? I didn’t have time to run that far.

Slowly lowering her head to the cool floor, I rose high on my knees, my gaze darting across the room. Where was her phone? Nothing but a mess of dishes and countertops strewn with mail. My body thrummed with the pulse of terror.

It frightened me that I didn’t know what to do. It frightened me more that my own child might die in my arms.

Her eyes flicked open, not registering me. Thank God she was conscious.

“Where’s your cell phone? I need to call 9-1-1.” I didn’t want to scare her, but the calm wouldn’t stay put in my voice.

She didn’t move. Didn’t blink. Then recognition dawned in her eyes. Her mouth cracked open.

“Do you know what happened?” I asked her.

She didn’t speak at first, then her mouth parted just enough to let a word escape. “No.”

“Don’t close your eyes. Stay awake until an ambulance arrives. I need your phone!”

Her body shivered with a weak breath, her face seemed to empty its color onto the floor, mixing with the blood that leached out more each second.

“Not…until I get answers.” Her jaw clenched. I recognized the stubborn teen in her.

I clucked in irritation. Of course she was going to make me barter for her life. Didn’t she realize she was dying?

“What do you want to know?”

Her chest rose with a breath. “I want to know why. Why you lied. Why you did what you did.”

The eternal question, one I asked myself daily for the past fifteen years. The question I couldn’t answer.

“Tell me where your phone is first. You’re not looking good, honey. I need to call for help. Now, please!”

“No!” A grunt slipped out with the effort of speaking. “First tell me the truth.”

“Will an answer take it all back? Will it make everything better?”

“No…” Her words were slowing, slurring. “But maybe I’ll understand.”