Thursday, March 12, 2009

Getting Away

"Is this meant to be funny?" I asked him. There was no way my mother could have survived. 
"You think I would joke about my own daughter's death?"
I felt hot and sick and needed air.
"I don't know what to think. How can she still be alive?" I felt sweat trickle down the back of my neck.  I pushed myself up from the chair.
"I need to get out of here."
 I wanted to know but couldn't handle believing it had all been a hoax.  I'd spent so much time getting my head around her being dead. I moved toward the door.
"You can't leave here. Not tonight," Pa said. His voice was slow and even. It was clear who was now in control. 
"Why not?" I glared across at him.
"It's not safe. People know you are here. They know why you have come. My brother will be watching out for you. The thing is, it isn't your mother he wants. It's you. He will draw you out, Marshall. And then he will kill you. Trust me. He has killed before. He will kill again."
I stood halfway between the door and the chair, uncertain which option to take.

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