Law & Crime
There's a masked man in the passenger seat, pointing a gun at me. A masked man. A gun. In my car. "Drive!" He waves the gun at me.
Staring out from the front page is a picture of Mom, and I swear she's looking me right in the eyes. The caption reads, "Attempted Murderer To Be Given Parole."
Suddenly my outrage dissolves, replaced by cold fear. It sticks in my throat. Darren takes a step toward me. I jump back, but he grabs my wrist and yanks me around, twisting my arm behind my back. Pain explodes in a series of flashing white and red lights. My body locks up with agony as my shoulder rotates toward the outer edge of its range of motion. I scream. What the hell is going on? How can this be happening to me?
I’ve never heard myself scream before. Not like this.
Fue un hombre pelirrojo tirado en el suelo del cuarto de los padres de lan, con un brazo en alto como si se hubiera caído de la cama. Tenía el brazo torcido y la parte de atrás de la cabeza ensangrentada.
"Respira," me digo a mí misma mientras tamborileo con las uñas en la mesa del comedor. "No pienses en eso. Si te pones a recordarlo, el oficial Wells se puede dar cuenta. Él no sabe nada y no te ha venido a buscar a tí." Hago que mis dedos paren.
