![]() Miniature tortures that parents tend to write off as boys being boys. He pulled the wings from moths, or misted trails of ants with hairspray and set them on fire. He chopped up worms into wriggling segments and fried them with a magnifying glass. So I followed him, and I found out why he smiled like that. He always came back smiling to himself in a way that made me feel cold and queasy, like I'd eaten something bad. I watched Jason take that path every day after school. My bedroom window gave me a direct view of the path to the river. His family lived next door to mine on the outskirts of town. His name was Jason Dunn, and on the outside he appeared as normal as his name. Or maybe that's just what I tell myself so I can live with what I am. I obsess.īut I never, ever talk about him, the boy whose life I took. I try not to think about it, that time I killed a boy.īut the problem with trying not to think about something is you'll think about it even more. įor the women who raised meâKathleen Knott, Amy Jespersen, Borgny Erickson, and Gertrude Knott If you believe the copy of this e-book you are reading infringes on the author's copyright, please notify the publisher at: us./piracy. Copyright infringement is against the law. ![]() You may not make this e-book publicly available in any way. The author and publisher have provided this e-book to you for your personal use only. To receive special offers, bonus content,Īnd info on new releases and other great reads,įor email updates on the author, click here.
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