“My family is toxic. Stay away.”
- 26.
January 12th.
The snow had been falling for a day and a
night. The riverbank was deserted. The white
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My spot was good, sheltered from the wind,
clean. I could watch the sparrows foraging for
food. But it was cold. And…I think I wet myself.
- 27.
January 14th. The sun was out.
Today was a bad day. A fluffy white dog with
one ear sticking up found me. Its owner, an old
woman in a red knit hat, her eyesight failing, wouldn’t leave me alone.
“Don’t wander off, child. Go home. The river monster will get you when it gets dark.”
Did she think I was three? But…I wanted to cry. Who didn’t want to be three again?
- 28.
I wanted to find a drier spot, but I couldn’t get
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11:24
- ))
- up. The snow was beautiful. Sparkling in the
sunlight, like shards of glass.
It hurt my eyes.
- 29.
When Ashley didn’t come home, Jason called the police. But Robert had a different story.
“She’s always been stubborn. Runs off when
she’s upset. Wants everyone to worry about
her.”
“We had a little argument a few days ago. She’s probably just sulking.”
He convinced the officers it wasn’t a big deal. But on January 20th, they came back. A body
had been found under a bridge near Sandbar
Village. They needed Robert and Carol to
identify it.
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11:24
47
Carol felt numb as they walked into the morgue. Her eyes were fixed on the officer’s shoes. He moved, she moved. Robert followed close
behind. Each echoing footstep felt frozen in the
cold air.
The officer gently lifted the sheet. A dark brown wig slipped off, revealing a purplish, bald head. It was a shocking sight. Carol’s hand trembled, her heart pounding in her chest.
She turned to Robert, her hand hovering
Over
the sheet. Robert nodded, urging her on. Carol
took a deep breath, counted to three, and
pulled back the sheet, revealing the face.
It was gaunt, lifeless, unfamiliar.
Carol exhaled, relief washing over her. She
patted her chest, a nervous smile twitching at
her lips.
“That’s not her,” she told Robert. “The wig and
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11:24
the clothes are similar, but it’s not her.” Her
voice was firm, certain.
4
They left. The drive home was silent, both lost
in their thoughts. As they pulled into the
driveway, Carol sighed. “Call her. It’s New
Year’s Eve tomorrow.”
