“Momma said it was you when I asked who was home.” I step back, dropping the needle onto my rolling table. “She told me.” But a flash of her thinned lips and scared expression floats through my memory. He coughs and grunts, his left arm swelling and growing pink. “She was lying.” I scoff. “Convenient. If it wasn’t you, who was it?” After grabbing the knife I placed down earlier, I hold it at the side of his neck. “And don’t pretend like you don’t know. Tell me the truth and I’ll make your death fast, even though you don’t deserve it.” “If I had to guess?” He coughs again, blood seeping from
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I am Jack's total lack of surprise
