Glass (Crank 2)

convinces me to go on home,

do whatever is necessary

to keep my mom and Scott off

my back. Apologize like I’m

really, truly sorry. And, in

several ways, I really am. But

there’s no turning back now.

I Tiptoe Through the Door

Hoping the house is still

silent, and it is. Down

the hall, into my room,

where I quietly seek

out a new stash place,

then lie down on my bed.

The pink silk quilt is almost

too soft. Part of me—a small

part, growing smaller by

the minute—demands penance.

That small part, the Kristina

part, keeps whispering

what a fool the other,

Bree part, is. “Not only

were you stupid to sneak

back to the monster,” she

mumbles, “but ten to one

you’re going to get caught.

Mom and Scott will know.”

The Bree part just stares

contentedly at the ceiling,

really comfortable for the