Lucas looks at me with wild, tearful eyes. “What is it?” “Don’t trust . . .” I say. He takes another step forward. “What? Don’t trust what?” “Not what . . . who.” I hang my head, shaking it back and forth in disbelief. “Who shouldn’t you trust, Beth?” he asks. The sound of metal hitting bone twangs with a dull thud, immediately muffled out of existence by the rain and wind. My head snaps up just as Lucas falls to the ground, blood gushing from where the shovel connected with his skull. I want to run to him but I can’t. I want to run away but I can’t do that either. Neither fight nor flight has
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