I hurled myself into the far corner of the dining room, great big sobs wracking my body and stealing the air from my lungs.
Pop wasn't dead he wasn't there was something wrong with me oh Feozva it hurt to see him but it wasn't him it wasn't.
I folded into myself, unable to sort it out in my mind because it was too much.
The hallway door opened. I pressed my face into the cold titanium wall and squeezed my eyes shut. It had come for me. Not he. Not Pop. It.
Footsteps circled around the other side of the table and strode into the kitchen at high speed. I turned my head in time to see a figure dressed in a smock and a long brown, frizzy braid.
"Ellison," I whispered, scrambling to my feet. I had to tell her what I saw even though I wasn't so sure myself.
The sound of drawers opening and slamming shut sped my movements. No one should be in the kitchen alone.