No Exit by Taylor Adams 2

made a strange sound, like a wet burp. The clean white gauze
blotted red.
“He’s fine, Jaybird. Wanna, ah, play circle time?”
“We’re all …” Sandi sighed, wiping Ed’s blood on her
pants. “We’re all going to prison for the rest of our lives. You
know that, right?”
Ashley ignored her. He was a black shadow, towering over
Darby, studying her. Still gripping her wrist, trapping her
against the half-open closet door. His eyes moved up and
down her body.
Darby stared at the floor, at her size-eight Converse,
slashed by ice and browned with dirt and blood. Ten days ago,
they’d been new in a box.
“Were …” Ashley cleared his throat. “Were you close
with your mom?”
She shook her head.
“No?”
“Not really.”
He leaned closer. “Why not?”
She said nothing. She fought his grip on her wrist, and he
gently retaliated with his other hand, pressing his nail gun
against her belly. His knuckle on the trigger. Something about
the thing’s color — a sickening Crayola-orange — made it
look like an oversized child’s toy.
He repeated himself, his hot breath tingling on her neck:
“Why not, Darbs?”
“I was … I was kind of an awful daughter.” Her voice
trembled but she steadied herself. Then, like a levee breaking,
it all came out: “I took advantage of her. I manipulated her. I
called her horrible things. I stole her car once, with a shoelace.
I’d leave, for days at a time, without telling her where I’d gone
or who I was out with. I must have given her ulcers. When I
… when I left for college, we didn’t even say goodbye. I just