My lungs refuse to work as Fiona speaks with Crawford. It feels sticky inside, blood frozen in my veins. She must sense my guilt, so as she speaks in a shaky voice, she doesn’t look up at me. Still, it doesn’t ease the boulder that lodges itself in my chest. Crawford asks to speak with me and she finally turns to me, eyes full of regret, she shoots me a small, watery smile before handing me the phone. My hands are stiff. Tim walks to me, standing right next to me so I know he’s here, brows drawn, glare as hot as the sun directed at the phone. I find it’s easier to breathe with the realization that I’m not alone. Crawford doesn’t say anything, but his too steady breathing over the phone lets me know exactly what is going on, he’s angry in ways that he’s just inventing himself. Plus, the silence is to rattle me. I square my shoulders.This is war. We’ve been going at it since I was born, he’s always had the upper hand, this time though, I managed to one up him, and with that hand and
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