Twenty-Four
Ryn’s hands start to shake. He makes a strangled noise that sounds like ‘no.’ His knife clatters onto the floor, and his hands tug at his hair.
My brain takes in the evidence and searches desperately for a different conclusion. Perhaps it isn’t her blood. Or if it is, perhaps she’s wounded and not dead. But that’s a whole lot more blood than a small child can afford to lose, and coupled with the fact that I can no longer sense her … Well, I’m struggling to come to any conclusion other than the one Ryn has clearly arrived at. He picks up the jersey from the bed and presses it to his face. His shoulders begin to shake.
I saw my father cry once, after we received the news that Reed had died. There was something terrifying about his tears. I had only ever known him as strong and
