Page 107 of Molt

A little girl.

Seven years old. Sitting on a yellow bicycle. A woman kneeling in front of her, tying a shoelace. “Careful, Sarah.”

The girl laughs. “I am careful.”

A scraped knee. Three little white lines. My scar. The scar that came off with my first piece of skin. “No.” I stumble backward.

August catches me.

I shove him away. “No.”

“Lenora...”

“My scar.”

“What?”

“The scar on the first piece.” I can barely breathe. “That wasn’t Lenora’s.”

His expression changes.

“It was Sarah’s.”

The room seems to shrink.

Another memory. A school hallway. A locker. A boy handing me a note. Except my name isn’t Lenora.

It’s Sarah.

Another.

Sixteen.

My mother screaming at me because I came home late.

Another.

Twenty-three.

Moving into my first apartment.

Another.

A driver’s license.

SARAH ELLIS.

No.

“No.” I clutch my head. “No, no, no.”

“Lenora...”

“Don’t call me that.”

He freezes.

“Don’t fucking call me that!” I slam my hands against the sink. The mirror cracks beneath my reflection. Whoever looks back at me has one of August’s eyes.