her voice catching. “He did this to m-me.” “Honey,” said Jeff, standing from his chair. “What are you talking about?” “I-I found you in your shed,” she said, gaining a little more clarity of voice. “And you hit me, knocked me out.” She looked to the nurse for reassurance. But something about her was off, slightly familiar.
“Jenny, the girls said you heard something outside and ran out,” said Jeff. “I found you on the ground outside. You must’ve tripped over something and hit your head.” But all she could think of was that slumped figure with hair of flames, and a more familiar image—that of a crooked, unnerving smile.
11
sketch by Alex Deiters
