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Paige is close enough to be able to tell She lifts his ar all of her razor teeth
I try to call to her, but what comes out is just a puff of breath He’s dead He must be Still, I can’t look away, and my heart pounds in my ears
She stops with his arm in front of her rowling dog
The piece of paper theis now in front of her face She pauses to stare at it
She pushes the et a better look
The skin of her nose straightens, and herher teeth behind her lips Her eyes warins to tremble, and she moves his are puts her hands up to cradle her head, swaying gently back and forth like a worn-out woman with too many problems
Then she spins and runs off into the darkness
I stand in the shadows, h My baby sister is choosing to be hu it at the cost of starving to death
I walk over to the h-heeled shoes andbut unconscious
Still breathing
I sit down shakily next to his will hold me up
His clothes are dirty and worn, and his beard and hair are scraggly, as if he’s been on the road for weeks Someone once toldhe’s been here
I have the craziest urge to call an ambulance
It’s hard to believe that we used to live in a world where coiven him medicine and hooked him up to machines to monitor his condition They would have looked after hi about hih his stuff to steal useful iteht that was perfectly nor I don’t want to take it out of his hand, because whatever it is, it rip it as he’s dying
It’s a torn and stained piece of paper with a kid’s crayon drawing A house, a tree, a stick figure adult holding the hand of a stick figure kid Scrawled along the bottom in shaky block letters are the words ‘I Love You, Daddy’ in pink crayon
I look at it for a long tiently on his chest
I drag hi flat on the carpet instead of on the pile of mannequins on the tiled floor
There’s a backpack nearby that I also bring and set beside him He e through and find a water bottle
His head is warm and heavy on my arm as I tilt it for the water Most of it spills out around his lips, but some of it trickles into hisme wonder if he’s completely out