What Kills Me Read Online Free PDF Page A

raked
my nails against them. Scraped my knees. Stabbed my ribs on jutting
rock. I lay my cheek against the wall while my toes found
footholds.
    Light.
    I thought of nothing but getting to
the lit orb, which grew bigger with each upward heave.
    Here it is. I’m at the
top.
    I grabbed the edge of the well and one
of the boulders came loose. I dropped backward, screaming. The
chunk tumbled into the hole, striking my knee on its descent. I
dangled from the edge by one hand. I swung my free hand back to the
wall and, arms quivering, I pulled myself up. I threw my leg over
the well and collapsed onto the dirt, amid the candles. Heaving.
Exhausted. I saw my hands. They were painted red with blood. I was
bleeding. I was dying.
    Strong hands took my limp
shoulders and flipped me onto my back. Help me. A man’s face hovered over
mine. The candlelight reflected in his warm brown eyes, and his
mouth moved. He rubbed the hair away from my face.
    Darkness started to creep in from the
edges of my vision. I blinked, trying to stop the black from
closing in. I looked at the man through the tunnel. Was I falling
in the hole again?
    I heard him say in low, soothing
tones, “Sleep, my child. You’re safe now.” His voice sounded far
away.
    I closed my eyes.
     
    ***
     
    My mother crouched in the garden,
breaking wilted buds from her purple and yellow irises. Her straw
hat hid her face but I knew that she was smiling because she was
humming. My sister was lounging on the deck with a paperback and
cracking sunflower seeds between her molars.
    “Oh no!” My father exclaimed. He bent
over the sidewalk near the pond that he had dug three summers ago,
and picked up what I thought was a big leaf. We ran over and saw
that he was holding one of his fish. It had leaped out of the water
but its golden gills were still pumping.
    My father put the fish back into the
pond. It wiggled a few times but started to keel, turning its
champagne-colored belly toward us.
    “He’s finished,” Tiffany said,
returning to her book. My mother picked up the garden hose and
sprayed a mist over her flowers.
    “I’m sorry, Dad,” I said. He had
dozens of koi and goldfish but he had nurtured each one for years.
This one had been the size of my pinky when we bought him and had
grown to the length of my hand.
    “Maybe we can give him
mouth-to-mouth?” I said to lighten the mood.
    My father retrieved a white plastic
stool from under the deck and sat by the pond. I stood over him,
watching him hold the fish just under the water. Every minute or
so, he would bring the koi’s open mouth toward the
surface.
    At dinnertime, I called him to come
inside.
    “Zee, come look,” he said. He was
standing with his hands on his hips and grinning. I peered into the
water and his golden koi was swimming in figure eights under the
lily pads.
    “Hey, he’s alive,” I said.
    My father slung his arm over my
shoulder. “That fish was a fighter. He wanted to live. He just
needed a little help.”
    In the distance, I heard the thump of
a helicopter. I looked into the clear blue skies and couldn’t
locate the noise. It grew louder.
    “Let’s go inside,” my father
said.
    “Okay, Dad.”
     
    ***
     
    That sound stirred me from
my slumber. I pushed my head further into the pillow to try to
muffle the sound. Wup-wup-wup-wup-wup. My dreams
faded— Wait, Dad. I’m coming inside the
house. Wait for me— and my eyes became
unstuck. I was looking at my hand on a white pillow. My fingernails
were caked with what looked like brown mud. My vision cleared. I
fixated on the textured swirls and loops on my fingertips. I had
never seen them like that before. Raised like sand dunes and curled
like spiral shells.
    Fingerprints.
    A moth flung itself against a
windowpane. It looked like a tiny bird, rising with each powerful
beat of its silky wings. It waved its antennae, two long, curved
feathers protruding out of its furry gray head, and tucked in its
twiggy legs. I saw the moon reflected