Page 683 - Anonymous
P. 683
Green eyes that match my own stare
back at me. Wild auburn hair is in a
ponytail. “Anna,” she says.
Her voice is just like my mother's.
How is this even possible? Blood coats
her shirt, and the gun quivers in her
hand. I look at the woman at her feet.
Chelsea stares up at Anna, her eyes are
vacant, lifeless.
“Is she…?” I don’t dare say the
words. Willow holds my hand in hers and
