BLOOD SPURTED OUT OF THE WOUND. Hannah’s eyes shot wide, and her hand traveled to her throat. It only lasted seconds, but for me, it seemed to take hours. She blinked, as if what had just happened was an impossibility. The red liquid spilled onto the floor, quickly forming a puddle. Hannah gurgled something unintelligible, then her eyes rolled back and she dropped to her knees first, before collapsing to the floor.
I wanted to rush forward to grab her, hold her, help her, press a cloth or even my hands to the wound in her neck, but instead, I was frozen to the spot.
The light left her eyes as she lay there—a ragdoll, limp, dead.
Nobody moved. We were all mesmerized by what had just taken place.
I’d seen dead people, seen them all the time. But I’d never seen anyone die. Even my mother
