The metallic smell of blood and salty tears found my hiding place before Mama did. “Papa’s sorry” she whimpered. I pretended to believe her.
As our lips joined, I touched the tip of his tongue with mine. He panicked and hurried back to his car. I jingled his car keys in the air.
When donated Christmas boxes came, she gave all the little gifts in hers to the younger orphans. All except the doll. She’d never had one.
Mechelle balanced the five-gallon jug on her head as she walked back to her master’s house. She wondered if she would be allowed to drink.
Jack wore a neck brace; Jill had an arm cast. He had let them use the well as a favor. Now they were suing him. Nice.
She sat in the dark, bat in hand while two younger sisters slept. The bedroom door creaked open; the bat splintered their big brother’s toe.