The Thicket

by Noelle W. Ihli

And when the first scream does tear through his throat, he knows it’s loud enough that everyone will hear it. But no one will come.

Norah doesn’t ask why. Because the look in the woman’s eyes tells her to cling to these last few minutes of not knowing like a life raft.

Taylor has a feeling that she, Maren, and Jamie will be piled on Jamie’s living room floor by morning. Like always.

same thing happens with mice when there’s nowhere left to run. They go limp, frozen, heartbeat still frantically pumping beneath a cat’s paw. Playing dead works.

It’s fascinating, that denial. It stays until the very end for most people. If they don’t fight, they freeze. And if they don’t shut down, they hold onto hope. Always so much hope.

she’s not doing this to be kind or generous or even to help Taylor. She’s doing it because she needed to tell someone to go to hell. Because the anger, at least, is a spark in the darkness.

Just the next thing,