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“Down, Maggie. GET DOWN.”
When Mom had that tone, it brooked no argument. I tried to drop. Unfortunately, the fang had me in such a way that down didn’t work. It lurched its arm up, and I went with it, slamming my head into the roof of the van. It hurt, but not nearly as much as the shards of glass shredding through my sweatshirt to rip into my back fat, sending white hot pain sizzling down my spine.
I knew I shoulda lost those thirty pounds sooner.