Erika had been up since six in the morning, doing chores. She was walking up the stairs after taking out the trash and going shopping, exhausted. Her foster family did not like her taking the elevator. She only did it when she knew they were not in the building. 

She got to her floor and opened the door. She took a second to straighten her posture before stepping.

"I'm so glad you were there," a strange voice was saying. 

Erika walked down the hallway into the kitchen and placed the good on the counter. She then turned to the living room. There was a strange woman sitting on the couch across from her foster family as well as some police officers. Everyone looked up at her.

"Oh, Erika!" Lily jumped up with a bubbliness that almost scared her and gave Erika a stuff hug. "Can you please give me my sweater back now? The orange one I leant you this morning?"

Erika looked around. The woman was staring at her. Really staring at her. Her green eyes were like daggers, cutting into Erika's face as if their bearer could possibly decipher the meaning of life by staring at her. Erika couldn't tell if she knew the woman or not, but there was an intense feeling of Deja Vu.

"What?" Erika asked.

"My sweater," Lily growled. "My orange sweater. Go get it. It's in your room."

Erika looked around. What was going on? 

Ruth stood up. "Erika, please go and get Lily's sweater." She spoke slowly, like as if Erika would suddenly understand if she paced out her words just so. "Now, please. This is very important."

Erika nodded robotically. It was her automated response to Ruth's "now, please." Nod and walk off. Don't question.

She went to her room and grabbed the sweater. It was dirty and torn she realized. Then it dawned on her. The strangers were here because of her. Lily wanted her sweater because Lily was pretending to be her, to have saved that kid. Erika balled the sweater in her fists. 

She took a deep breath. What could she do? Was there any use in fighting this? What could she say to prove it? Ruth and Jason would say they had been there. And that they had run off because Erika had been home alone, making supper for them and they did not want to be late. Or maybe they would say that she had called because she had burned herself, and they wanted to make sure she was okay. They would compliment Erika on how kind she was and how amazing it was that she helped them out. 

They would not say that they made her eat alone without them, or shoved her into a room that she could barely get out of. If the building burnt down she could get trapped and die. It was the facade they put up. And Erika went along with it because it was safe. Because as far as she knew they'd never tried to steal the money she made from work. When she turned eighteen she could leave. She would have enough if she could stay with these people long enough to save up. Letting Lily get the glory was a small price to pay for not dying under a bridge, homeless and cold.

She walked back out to the living room, holding the sweater. The woman stood up and walked over to Erika and clasped the sweater. Erika held her breath. She looked into the visitor's eyes for a moment, but the gaze was so intense that she dropped her eyes and looked away. She could feel how close the woman was to her. Feel her breath. 

Slowly, the guest gripped her upper arms. The sudden change made Erika flinch and she looked back up into the woman's eyes.

"No," the woman said, looking back at Ruth. "It's her. I saw her that day."

No, Erika pleaded, no just stop. Don't say anything, let Lily get what she wants. 

"You could not possibly have," Ruth started. "Lily was there. Erika was here all night. We try to get her to come out, but she was in such a mood last night we just let it go."

Erika was shaking. Or she felt like she was shaking. She wanted to run again. Run away. 

"Erika," the guest said. Erika had never heard anyone say her name like that like it was a name that belonged to someone who meant something.

The kettle made a popping noise to indicate that the water was boiled.

"Erika," Ruth echoed the woman, "why don't you get everyone some tea?"

"Yes," Erika said almost too quickly. Any reason to get away.

She left the sweater in the stranger's hands and started to walk over to the kitchen when the strange grabbed her burnt arm.

"Ow," she gasped, pulled her arm away.

This time the woman took her harm back. She rolled up Erika's sleeve.

"What happened?" she asked, staring at the bandage. 

"I got burnt last night,'" Erika admitted, "Just cooking though, it's not bad only tender."

She tried to pull her hand away again but this time the woman was expecting it. The woman was gentle as she bushed her hand over the bandage, slowing unravelling it. When the bandage slipped away she gagged.

Erika stared at the burn just as shocked. It had gotten a lot worse.

"Have you been to the hospital?"

Erika shook her head.

Ruth stood was over there in an instant. "Erika, how come you didn't tell us it had gotten worse?" She was trying to sound concerned, but it just came out as if she was trying not to yell. "See, this is why we had to leave because she called to say that had burned herself."

"It's not that bad," Erika echoed. It was true. Sure it hurt, but it only looked bad because there were blisters. As long as it did not get infected she would be fine. "What is going on?" she finally asked.

Then the officer got up. "From what we can tell, one of you two young ladies saved Mrs. Menzel's son yesterday. That sweater," he pointed to the one the woman, Mrs. Menzel, was still holding, "Is our only lead. May I see it?"

"Of course," Mrs. Menzel said, handing it over.

"And you think the foster girl Erika is the one you saw?" Mrs. Menzel nodded.

"Is something wrong?" Erika asked nervously. She did not want to get in trouble.

"No!" Mrs. Menzel exclaimed. "Nothing's wrong." She was so soft-spoken. Erika had never met anyone so soft-spoken. 

"It seems here that this sweater belongs to one Erika Rivera. Is that you?"

Erika nodded. She wrote her name in everything. It helped her get her stuff back more than once when she'd been in group homes. Ruth was giving her the death glare.

"And it matched the description and what we saw on the videos," he continued, "and these look like some skid marks matching what we might have expected." He held up the back of the sweater, where the marks and dirt were clearly visible.

"She gave the sweater to me," Lily said. "Because it's ugly. I wanted something no one would recognize me in and she gave me that. I gave her one of my sweaters." She added the last comment after a pause as if it would make her seem any better.

The officer put up his hands to silence Lily and then turned to Mrs. Menzel. "And you say you saw Erika." Mrs. Menzel nodded. "Erika, do you have anything to say."

Erika froze. She looked around. She knew she shouldn't lie to an officer, but she couldn't say anything against Lily. She would be sent away, back to the group home. She did not want to go back to the group home.

Her stomach lurched. She turned away and barely made it to the sink before she threw up. Almost immediately there was a hand rubbing her back, but she was too preoccupied to push it away.

Erika ran the water and washed her mouth before she looked back at everyone. She could feel the heat burning in her cheeks. Mrs. Menzel had a studying hand on her back, and another lightly on her upper arm.

"We need to sort this out, now," the second officer said. "Everyone sit down."

Erika knew she wouldn't be sick again, but she wished she would. The officers decided that everyone would be interviewed separately. Erika, Ruth, and Jason were sent out of the room. She slipped into her tiny room, hoping the walls were thin enough for her to hear what Lily was saying.

They weren't.

She rolled her eyes. This was cutting into her studying time. She had no desk in her room as there was no space. However, Erika had improvised. Her bed was pressed right up against the sliding doors to the closet and made a perfect chair. The shelves in the closet were not wide, but they were tall, giving her a dark but workable study space. She had just picked up where she'd left off on her essay when there was a knock on the door, then the sound of the door hitting the bed from.

"There's something in the way," a familiar soft voice said, "May I come in?"