“No,” Caleb manages. “She…she’s lying. Please…”

Cora lets go of me, turns, and delivers a harsh kick to Caleb’s head, which snaps upward for a split second before his jaw crashes back to the floor.

He moans as Cora returns her attention to me.

“You’re a part of this now.”

“What’s happening?” I manage to say. My throat is on fire, as if I’ve just swallowed a cup of hot sand. “We have to call for help.”

“We will.” Her voice is steady. How is she so calm? “You just need to understand. Caleb attacked me. In my room. Tried to rape me.”

“No!” he screams, which turns into a sob. “It’s not true. I didn’t…do anything.” He gets up to one knee before falling back to the floor, slipping on his own blood.

“Shut up!” Cora howls, the calm vanished. Turning to me, she says, “I had to do it. I didn’t have a choice. You need to believe me, Rose. I thought he was going to kill me.”

A movement to my right. Caleb is finally standing at the edge of the stairs, facing us. His upper body hunched, breaths shallow and erratic.

“Please…” His labored huffs are painful to hear. “She st-stabbed me.” He looks down at his crimson T-shirt and pats his chest, then sobs again. “Oh god. Oh my god. I need help.” He inserts a finger through his shirt and touches what I’m guessing is open flesh, his eyes in disbelief.

Cora takes a step and faces him. Her body is rigid, taut. He is unstable, weakened, his legs shaking in an effort to remain upright. Caleb is a strong kid and has three or four inches on my sister, but right now, she is the only threat in the house.

“Please…” He reaches a hand out and places it on her right shoulder. Not in aggression but for support. “I don’t…I don’t understand why—”

He doesn’t finish his sentence. Cora arcs her right hand—the clutched fist holding the open blade—high above her head, then brings the knife directly into the flesh above Caleb’s clavicle, the soft area between his neck and shoulder. It makes a sound I’ve never heard before and know will never leave me for the rest of my life.

She releases her hand, leaving the knife inside him.

Caleb’s eyes bulge, a mix of surprise and horror.

“How does that feel?” she asks him. Her voice isn’t even angry. If anything, it’s flirty.

Caleb stumbles, loses his balance, then falls backward down the flight of hardwood stairs. It sounds like a bowling ball being rolled down the steps, and as he reaches the landing, there’s a nauseating crunch that can only be some part of him breaking in two.

Silence. Desperate, painful silence, interrupted only by my own breaths. I’m still pressing my back against the wall, wishing I could disappear within it, transport to anywhere but here. Cora stands at the top of the stairs, her back to me, arms lifted by her side, a scarecrow.