Lila woke up screaming, not from pain, but from what she saw in the small, cracked mirror a nurse reluctantly handed her.
Her face, or what was left of it, was a mess of raw burns and swelling.
"My face! My career! It's ruined! Ruined!"
Hank and Mary-Lou, my dear parents, rushed to her side, cooing and fretting.
Then Mary-Lou' s eyes, sharp and accusing, found me.
"This is your fault, Scarlett! You were always jealous of her! She just won that pageant preliminary, the one you bombed at with that awful song! You started that fire, didn't you?"
Hank nodded, his face a mask of righteous anger.
"She' s right! You couldn' t stand her success!"
I almost smiled. The predictability was comforting.
"Jealousy? Interesting theory," I said, my voice even.
"You know, the liquor store across from The Swamp Shack has security cameras. They weren't damaged. I wonder what they might show."
I paused, letting them absorb that.
"Lila was awfully upset I kept my vintage Gibson in the back room. Maybe she was seen near that faulty wiring with something... flammable? Trying to make sure my guitar didn't survive, perhaps?"
Lila' s wails hitched. Her eyes, wide and terrified, darted to mine.
Panic. Pure, unadulterated panic.
I leaned in, my voice dropping to a sympathetic murmur.
"And Mom, Dad... you should know about Jax. The doctors are very clear. He' ll lose one leg. The other... he might never walk properly again. It's permanent."
Lila' s expression, visible even through the ruin of her face, shifted.
The fear was still there, but something new bloomed: revulsion.
Pure, undisguised disgust at the thought of a disabled Jax Beaumont III.
My beautiful, perfect sister.