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stepped into the rain. She didn't bother pulling up her hood. The water was already see
ing OPEN, past the Methodist church where Brenda made her sit in the back pew every Sunday
ad backed his truck into it last summer. Two cardboard boxes sat in the mud in front of the doo
ooked at the boxes. S
The old lock had been silver, scratched, the ke
handle anyway.
the
shout. She'd learned early that
, the jowls, the cigarette dangling from his lip. He mouthed somet
huge in the rain, hollow and desperate. She hit it again, feeling trs, her mouth moving fast. She held something up to the glass. Bills. Fi
of value in that tin can of a home. They'd sold it. They'd sold it for grocery mo
's the
s, her breath fogging the surface. She knew they co
his front pocket, his jeans too tight, the gesture obscene-and pulled out the ceramic doll. Her mother's doll. The one with t
at her, his tongue poking through the gap
ngers curled into fists. She took one step forward and drove her knuckles into the window glass.
enough. "You hear me? I call the cops, they see your reco
y phone, beige, the cord tangled. She held the rece
rearms and evaporating immediately, leaving trails of white mist. Her heart was hammering, not
hospital. The last time, when she was fourteen and the fever hit 108, the
with the doll still dangling from his fingers. She memorized their faces.
urned and
d, past the clothes she'd collected from thrift stores and church donations, past t
spasms starting in her fingers. Her vision blurred at the edges, the world tilting. Her le
eached into her bra-her only safe place-and pulled out the metal cylinde
black, the size of her thumbnail. She didn't have wat
down with a swallow that felt like swallowing
eal burnin
edges, then black, then red again. She could hear her heartbeat in her ears, too fas
cold. She n
nk fence separated the commercial district from the woods. The Black Pines. Fifty acres of sta
ars of condensation on the metal. She dropped
the fire in her veins, the pressure building behind her eyes,
dug her fingers into it and felt the wood char under her t
he hea
ink, rhythmic. And breathhrough the rain, she saw something pale in t
ed to her chest, feeling her heart try to escape her ribs.
thing w
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