Chapter Twenty-SevenI throw a punch at where I think Harper’s face is supposed to be, but she moves too fast and my fist misses.
Then she pushes me—and I feel as though I got hit with a car as I fly at Felix’s sixty-five-inch TV.
I crash into the screen, the air vacating my lungs as searing pain explodes in my shoulder blade.
A sharp edge of what’s left of a video game console has pierced my back, I realize as something warm trickles down in a blood sacrifice to Nintendo.
Harper looms over me.
She must not like seeing me clutch at the edge of the TV stand, because she stomps on my arm—and the earlier pain becomes a distant memory as the bones in my forearm snap like gluten-free crackers.
Stars explode in my eyes, and my throat pushes out a vocal-cord-tearing scream.
Seeing my tortur
