Becka slashed her left wrist with the secateurs and had to be taken to the hospital. The cut wasn’t fatally deep, but a lot of blood came out nonetheless. It ruined the white Shasta daisies. I’d been watching when she did it. I could not forget her expression: it had a ferocity I had never seen in her before, and which I found very disturbing. It was as if she’d turned into a different person—a
