Everyone else is in the house by now and heading to sleep. I can see their silhouettes framed by off-white light, the house making them luminous. I see Mary shake, limber as she is, and as I watch her body shake with her laughter, I feel the scent of blood creep up my nostrils and hold me by the neck. I sweep a hand away to wipe the ill away, but I can still feel it around me powerfully, and I sense the hot tears on my cheeks for far too long before I do anything.

My hand reaches out and grabs Trace by the shoulder. She looks up, startled, and blinks. "Angel! I could have hurt him."

"Have you healed him?" I ask her.

"I think so," she brushes her thin hands across her own face. The blood that belonged to him is back in his body and the metal bullet sits on the other side of his still body. I think about the design of the bullet, an inverse teardrop, curved up into a point at its head, the momentum it has to enter the body with to cause harm. I can't imagine a species that could create so many incredible things would waste time on weapons, but then again, they made us. I put my other hand over my mouth, embarrassed of things I haven't said and what I have to say next. If I hold myself tight enough maybe she won't be able to tell that I just want to fall apart right now.

Trace leans against my leg. It's been so long since she took her proper position in this backwards relationship of ours. I hadn't expected this to be a successful cure for insubordination but I would take all her sass for a few hopeful words at this point. Then again, I am the adult in the relationship. It's not her responsibility to make me feel better. It is my job to impose my goodwill upon her. "He'll be alright. You did your best, hon."

"I don't want my best. I just want this to work," Trace responds. "Where's Addie?"
Adaline emerges out of a mouse in the corner, her beady eyes becoming large and human. She keeps her hands close to her chest like an animal might. She smells of straw and blood. We all smell like straw and blood.

"We're not adults," I say. I blink a few times to see the world upright again. "We're not responsible enough to be taking care of each other. We can't even handle ourselves."

Trace looks up. "Does that mean we'll be part of the big group from now on?"

I shake my head. My mind fires off in all directions, bringing together, pulling apart, choosing the most opportune path for us. I build all the knowledge I've ever seen into the opportune path, building us a tower of families, hierarchies, societies, necessities, instructions, stories, and from the top I believe I might just be able to see the whole world. I find myself back at the second I knew they needed someone to look out for them: the first time I read about the mysterious concept of 'love', the obvious glue of the entire human society, and the first time I knew I needed it in my life to be complete. I know what a mother would do in this situation. I know that people sometimes leave the house when one member or another isn't doing their job, or when they should never have been doing such a job at all.

Tonight, we're getting a divorce.

"No," I whisper. "We're not going back to them at all."

Adaline shivers. Inside the house, Mary laughs louder. A window opens, letting the interior of the house mingle with the rest of the world, and the wind blows over scents of mystery meat and smoke. I gag, remembering where the ash comes from, and I grab her hand.

Trace stands up. "You can't. I'll scream."

Mothers have to sacrifice their own feelings for their children. They will do anything to keep them safe. My hand grasps a kitchen knife, which I hold against Adaline's neck. She bends back, offering herself to the steel, and I stand beside her, stroking her hair. Her breath shudders, in and out, inches away from the edge, brave brave brave girl. "Don't make me do anything rash, Trace."

Adaline begins to cry, but she doesn't move. She doesn't turn her head to look back at me, because just the motion might sever her sad head. Good girl. Strong girl. I can sense all the rules I've ever given her flashing through her body. Her blood. "Trace, maybe we should just go with her."

"Addie, I can't leave Red. I don't want to leave the group. You don't want to leave the group."

"I'm a danger to them. I barely saved myself this time. It might not happen next time. What if something happens to Red? What if he won't get up again?" asks Adaline.

"It's not just you who's dangerous to them," I tell her. "They're dangerous to you, too. They make you think bad things and feel horribly. If we got you away from here, among normal children you might never feel sick again."

Adaline gulps and nods. I can feel the heat from her flushed-red cheeks, mingling in the air with the scent of blood until everything is pulsing, throbbing. Red's limp body curls in the corner, smaller than ever. My heart pangs with all the pain I'll never get to express to him, but he has his choice. He'll spend his life handling Kali, Dylan, Elle, pretending that his family is anything more than a forest in a dry thunderstorm, with all the skyward wood getting ready to catch ablaze. Eventually, he'll get into a situation he can't get out of, and Trace, Adaline, and I won't be there to save him. It's not any of our concern what happens next.

"Hawks," I say. "Both of you. Now."

Adaline transforms as I draw the knife away, and Trace transforms behind us. My eyes flash a warning: I have always and will always know best. I leave the bloody shed behind and fly over the house, out until the entire world is just a series of dark asphalt rivers and patches of ugly, scrubby trees. I settle behind the other two, so I can keep an eye on them, and our inverse 'v' is an unfortunate waste of the perfect formation decided upon by nature, far before anyone could come in with the giant white birds that humans travel in--airplanes. We mimic them mimicking nature, but it's not good enough, and in some ways we're too savage to be human and we're too sad to be animals. We use animal eyes to look for human cities to land in, and when we fall to the earth at the nearest city, I almost fall right into a clipped holly bush.

I put my arms around it, relaxing into the thorns, and Trace and Adaline fall beside me. My cut body stings in a thousand places, but this pain is mine. I will take it. Adaline clings to me, hugging me as she sniffs, tears brimming on her face. We sob for a bit as girls, but I'm so happy that my head hurts.

"I hate you," Trace whispers. "I'll go back. I'll steal Addie and run away."

"No. You won't," I say.

Trace clenches her fists, but she follows me into the suburbs. The city smells like people, like garbage, cars, and paint, and I love it so much that I might cry again. The rain drenches the three of us and I run through the streets, looking for a library. There has to be information on how to start over on those pages, some way to understand everything they never told us.

I am going to live and I am going to do it alone.