Fallout (Crank 3)

cotton nightgown.

And the repulsion

glimmering cold in

her eyes is familiar

because it is some-

thing I have seen

staring back at me

from the glacier ice

of my mirror. I already

suspect the answer

when I ask, “What in

the hell happened?”

I OPEN MY ARMS

Her eyes grow wide, and she shakes

her head. Tears streak her cherub cheeks.

I slip out of my bed, move toward her,

and she shrinks back against the wall.

“It’s okay,” I soothe. “I won’t hurt you.”

I approach her as I would a cornered dog,

crazy wild with fear. I force my voice low

and calm. “Now tell me what happened.”

This time when I reach gently for her,

she tips forward into my arms. Sh-she

m-m-made me do something b-b-bad.

I told her n-no, but she said I h-had to.

She? Darla? What kind of bad?

“Who, honey? Did she hurt you?”

Ashante hesitates, trembling. I insist,

“What did she make you do?”

Finally she admits, It was Erica.