“Am I bad, Caoimhe?” “What?” My sister’s brows scrunched together, and she gave me a funny look. “Where did you hear that?” I shrugged. “Don’t know.” “No, Liz.” Caoimhe heaved out a big breath and climbed onto the bed with me. “You’re not bad.” Her hands were warm when they pulled me onto her lap, but her voice was sad. It made the burning feeling grow. The one that made me want to scream. The one that made me want to scratch my skin.
