ctim, a ghost haunting my ow
mountain streams in winter. I knew
our small town. The hayride, the bonfire, the crowds-it was the perfect cover. They would sneak awa
ss, too. A severe, ugly
o do a deep clean of the house, a sudden burst of energy.
d a thick patch of poison ivy, its leaves glossy with urushiol, the oil that caused the rash. I t
the part of the grieving widow to perfection, exploiting the family' s sympathy. Her favorite
e inside of the collars and the cuffs. A place wh
o guilt. No hesitation. Just
the storm I was
s spoiled, cruel son, had Maya pinned against the wall. He was laughing as he stuffed
, I would have c
mething insid
and yanked him back so hard he stumbled. Before he could react, I took the remaining b
a high-pitche
me running, their face
e doing to my boy?" Brend
, her nails digging in.
ling feed and chopping wood, had made me strong. I shoved Brenda away, sendi
ignored their pounding on the door, their threats and curses. I just held
And I had just fi
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