She doesn’t take her eyes from the fire. The flames dance in her eyes. “I don’t know yet,” she admits. “I think today’s the first day I’ve felt like maybe I will be okay. One day.”
Her scars glare at me, each one more alarming than the last. They look so out of place against the peaceful quality of her features. She can’t be more than nineteen or twenty. Too young to carry so much permanent damage around with her.
“Do you want something to eat?” I ask.
She looks at me as though she’s surprised by the question. “Now?”
I smile. “There’s nothing like a midnight snack to make everything feel a little bit better. Trust me on that.” I go to fetch a tray from the kitchen, load it up with food, and return, setting it down on the hearth between us. Angela hasn’t budged from her perch.
She bite
