MikaelaI can’t breathe. My knees are pushed all the way up to my chest, and I am struggling to catch fresh air over the dank smell of the exhaust seeping in through the trunk. Erin is rolled over partially on top of me. From the dim flashlight rolling around by our feet, I can see that her eyes are still closed and the little trail of blood from her forehead has stopped actively bleeding. I have no idea if she is alive or dead. I close my eyes, trying to remember what exactly is going on.
It comes to me in flashes. Three days ago, Maddie and I were upstairs working on a history project for her alternative classroom when we heard a bang. It was the sound of the door flying off of its hinges. Then came Erin’s scream and the drop of something hard and metal on the kitchen floor. I ran to our
