What should she do? Put it back in Delilah’s pocket? It had fingerprints on it now, from where Lily had touched it.

Oh, no. Oh God. Lily’s hands were covered in Delilah’s blood.

Lily flung out her hands, half expecting them to come loose from her body, separate from the rest of her.

She tried to wipe her hands on the grass. Then she took a tissue out of the pocket of her pajamas and scrubbed at her fingers.

The blood only spread farther. As if it were blooming out of her own skin.

Cursing again, Lily stuck the tissue and the lip gloss in the waistband of her pants, grabbed her crutches, and made her way back to the side entrance of the building. She pushed the door open with her shoulders and swung down the dark hall to the main first-floor bathroom. In the flickering candlelight of the tiny room Lily flung the lip gloss into the toilet and flushed it away, turning the handle with her foot even though it hurt like hell. Then she hopped to the sink and turned on the water.

Blood smeared the handle of the faucet. Silver from the metal surface gleamed through the thick red goop.

Lily shoved her arms under the stream of water, rubbing at her skin until it turned raw and red.

The power came back on with a jolt. Lily clapped a wet hand over her mouth to suppress another scream.

The light stabbed at her eyes like hot needles. She lifted her hands to block it out. Blood and water dotted her cheeks and lips and forehead.

The door swung open behind her.

She tried to think. How to explain, how to —

But it was Maria.

“Oh my God. There you are. Oh my God.” Maria collapsed onto the floor at Lily’s feet. She leaned her head against Lily’s good leg, the one that was mostly fine from the knee down.

Lily forced herself to keep breathing.

“What the hell happened?” Lily turned the water on higher, so they wouldn’t be heard, and splashed water on her face and neck.

“She jumped out the window.” Maria’s words came in short, stuttered bursts, like it hurt to breathe. “There was something wrong with that pill you gave me. She was acting really weird. She—oh my God, she’s dead, she—”

Of course. It had to have been something like that. That image, of Maria pushing her—it was nothing.

Maria wouldn’t do something like that. She couldn’t.

“She’s not dead.” Lily dried her hands and face. She pulled the tissue out of her waistband and dunked it under the water, too, then dropped it in the trash can under a wad of paper towels. She looked for stains on her pajamas, on her crutches, but she didn’t see anything.