❝ –– perhaps it’s true that things can change in a day. and when they do, those few dozen hours, like the salvaged remains of a burned house—the charred clock, the singed photograph, the scorched furniture—must be resurrected from the ruins and examined. and suddenly, they become the bleached bones of a story.
“Shh, don’t apologize, it’s alright. Let me take a look at your injuries, is that okay, Teddy? I won’t hurt you,” Jake promised, keeping his voice very calm and leveled for her sake. He ushered her into his living room where he turned on the lights so he could see her bed… His chest constricted immediately.
Dropping her gaze from the harsh light, Teddy felt the rush of violence rise in her chest like the whisper of a memory. She’d never been like this before — scared of her shadow, scared of the night. No, she’d always been so brave, but maybe having her spirit crushed hurt more than Henry’s rage. She could barely look at Jake, knowing what she must look like. Her once pretty face was now ragged with months of wear; eyes already too old for her age.
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