Hailey tries to turn her head away from me, but it slumps back because she has no strength. There are cuts on her face. Above her left eyebrow, on her cheek, her bottom lip. Her skin is swelling feverishly, the blood starting to dry. Her throat is marred with angry red welts, and blotches are scattered over the top of her chest. I know it’s not the worst of her injuries. The way her breath whistles tells me her ribs have probably been broken.
