“Maybe your baby can wait until dessert.”
I stepped toward her, but another contraction bent me in half. By the time I straightened, she was already outside.
Then Ryan screamed.
I stumbled to the door and saw her in the driveway—with a gas can.
At first, my mind refused to understand what I was looking at. Then she struck a lighter.
The flames caught instantly.
The car went up like it had been waiting for it.
Heat rushed toward me, the sound of fire swallowing everything else. Behind me, my mother stood on the porch and said, with quiet disgust, “Another useless human? What’s the point?”
I dropped to my knees.
