No Exit by Taylor Adams 2

Jay approached her now.
“No. Don’t come any closer.” She spat again. “I have
gasoline on me.”
But she came anyway, her little footsteps rippling the dark
puddle, and sat quietly on Darby’s knee. Then she buried her
face in the shoulder of Darby’s Art March hoodie. Darby
wrapped her unhurt arm around this stranger’s daughter, and
they huddled there together, in a shivery little embrace over
their own reflections, as Ashley’s footsteps faded outside.
“You didn’t tell me your mom died,” Jay whispered.
“Yeah. It just happened.”
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s alright.”
“Was she mean to you?”
“No. I was mean to her.”
“But you still loved each other?”
“It’s … complicated,” Darby said. It was the best answer
she had, and it broke her heart. It’s complicated.
“Are your … are your fingers okay?”
“They’re locked in a door. So, no.”
“Does it hurt?”
“Let’s talk about something else.”
“Does it hurt, Darby?”
“It hurts less now,” she lied, watching a second bead of
her own blood inch down the doorframe, thicker than the first.
The gas fumes were clouding her mind, smearing her thoughts
like watercolors. “Can we … hey, can we just talk about your
dinosaurs for a while?”
“No.” Jay shook her head. “I don’t want to.”
“Come on.”