• When Jenny woke up that morning, she was cocooned in her duvet, heart pounding and tears running down her cheeks.

    It must have been some dream.

  • “Press down on it!” Sophie was shrieking. “Press down on the wound! You can’t let him bleed out! You can’t!”

    I looked at her. “He’s a DOG, Soph.”

    “So?”

    “A STUFFED dog.”

    “Then where’d the blood come from?”

    “My hand. You bit it, remember?”

  • It was a pressing sort of question, and I had no idea how to answer it. My mind had gone blank; any thoughts left behind were running laps around my head.

    Jamie, seeing me pause, kicked me under the table. I yelped with surprise and pain, and Anni looked at us suspiciously. She asked again.

    ‘How did they die?’

  • I was thirsty. So goddamned thirsty. For water, obviously. You couldn’t walk through a desert for 5 miles without getting a little thirsty. But I was also thirsty for James. For the taste of his lips on mine. I’d never thought I’d ever actually feel that way about someone, back when I was sixteen. I’d always been sort of convinced that there would…[Read more]

  • FrenchThePotato commented on the post, pity 4 years, 8 months ago

    ‘I think that’s the worst part, though,’ she said finally, when the hiccups had subsided. ‘The fact that they all pity me, you know?’

    Damien and I exchanged looks. We DIDN’T know; that was the problem. And she’d never tell us anyway. She loved mysteries too much to reveal herself that easily.