Page 195 of Bitter’s Sweet

“I don't want to hear it.”

“Good, because Mercy’s coming.”

The phone buzzes again.

My thumb moves before common sense can stop it.

Mama looks lonely.

Rage cuts through the fear.

“You son of a bitch.”

Petal looks at me. “What?”

I show her.

Her face hardens. “Men are why women need heavy purses.”

“I thought pregnancy was making you peaceful.”

“Pregnancy made me homicidal with heartburn.”

Despite everything, a broken little laugh escapes me.

My phone buzzes again.

This time there is no picture.

Murder hole.

I stop breathing.

A second text follows.

Come alone or she burns.

I stare at the words.

Mama looks up at me from the photograph above them.

My mother has been dead for years. The frame is wood and glass. I know that. I know a picture is not a person, and I know Razor is counting on me forgetting the difference.

My fingers still tighten around the phone until they hurt.

“That’s all I have left of her.”

Petal is close enough to hear.

Her face softens. “No, honey.”

“It is.”

“You have you.”

That nearly breaks me.

I look away.