“Vanessa!” I screamed, pounding on the door. “Open this door!”
From the other side, I heard footsteps.
For a brief second, hope rose in my chest.
Then my sister’s voice came through the door, low and trembling. “I’m sorry, Rachel.”
Emma started crying.
“What did you do?” I screamed.
Vanessa didn’t reply. Her footsteps faded away.
Smoke thickened along the ceiling, creeping into the dining room like a living thing. I pulled out my phone.
No signal.
The townhouse had always had poor reception, and Vanessa knew that.
I dragged Emma toward the back door. Locked. The kitchen window had security bars. The living room window was painted shut, and the smoke was already turning the room gray.
I wrapped a dish towel around my fist and smashed it into the glass cabinet, grabbed the heaviest pan I could find, and struck the window frame. Wood cracked. Emma coughed behind me.
