Chapter 5 - The Other ChildI couldn't breathe.
The photograph shook in my hands.
The baby looked nothing like me.
No resemblance.
No familiar blanket.
No hospital bracelet.
Just a newborn wrapped in white.
My mother looked younger.
Terrified.
And behind her stood my father.
But the date was wrong.
I had been born twenty years ago.
The photograph was dated eleven months before my birth.
“Who is that?” I whispered.
Daniel didn't answer.
I turned the photograph over.
There was writing.
Lily.
My heart slammed.
“That's impossible.”
Daniel shook his head.
“Your sister isn't Lily.”
I stared at him.
“What?”
He pointed at the photograph.
“Your mother's first child was Lily.”
I stepped backward.
“My sister is Vanessa.”
“I know.”
“Then who is Lily?”
He looked at me with an expression I had never seen before.
“You don't remember her.”
I laughed nervously.
“This is insane.”
Daniel walked to the cabinet.
Inside was a bundle of old documents.
He opened the first.
Birth certificate.
Mother: Margaret.
Father: Thomas.
Child: Lily Margaret Carter.
I stared.
My fingers went numb.
“Why would my mother have another daughter?”
Daniel's voice was quiet.
“Because Lily died.”
The room fell silent.
“How?”
He hesitated.
“You were there.”
My stomach twisted.
“No.”
“You were five.”
“I don't remember.”
“You don't remember because they made sure you didn't.”
I slapped the papers out of his hands.
“Stop.”
“Rachel.”
“Stop saying things you can't prove.”
Daniel crouched and collected them.
Then he showed me another document.
A hospital incident report.
Patient: Lily Carter.
Age: 4.
Cause: accidental fall.
Date: exactly sixteen years ago.
My eyes went to the photograph again.
Then to the date.
Then to the name.
Lily.
I whispered, “My sister was four.”
Daniel nodded.
“So was Emma.”
The comparison made my blood run cold.
“What happened to Lily?”
Before he could answer, we heard the front door unlock.
Someone entered the apartment.
My mother.
She looked at us.
Then at the papers.
Her face collapsed.
“You weren't supposed to find this.”
I stepped toward her.
“Who was Lily?”
She closed the door.
“She was your sister.”
“Vanessa isn't my sister?”
“She is.”
“Then who was Lily?”
Mom started crying.
“That isn't the question.”
“Then what is?”
She looked at me.
“The question is why you survived.”
I felt every hair on my arms rise.
“What?”
She wiped her face.
“Sixteen years ago, Lily fell down those stairs.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“And I was there?”
Mom nodded.
“You pushed her.”
I stopped breathing.
“I was five.”
“You were angry.”
“That’s impossible.”
“She took your toy.”
“That’s impossible.”
“You pushed her.”
My mother’s voice cracked.
“Then she hit her head.”
I stumbled backward.
“No.”
“You don't remember because the trauma broke the memory.”
I stared at her.
“You let me believe she never existed.”
“We were protecting you.”
“No.”
“We were protecting everyone.”
“From what?”
Mom looked at the photograph.
Then at me.
“From the truth about who pushed the skillet.”
I felt sick.
“What does Lily have to do with Emma?”
Mom didn't answer.
Instead, she reached into her coat.
She pulled out an old cassette tape.
May you like
And on the label, written in faded black ink, were four words.
THE NIGHT RACHEL FORGOT.
