This is my last piece of 2017! Can’t wait to see what 2018 has in store.
One night, she wanted to become blood sisters, so we sliced into our palms and held hands until it ran red down our arms. When we let go, you couldn’t tell which blood was whose, and Callie said this was the whole point.
“I tell Ben he doesn’t have to, but he lifts the shotgun anyway, nestles it against his shoulder, aims too far left. Misses every shot. They reverberate in the clearing around us, impossibly loud, too close, the kind of crack that hits you in your spine.”