I whimper in sheer frustration.
“Hey now.” The detective, standing beside me again. “It’s okay. I can help. This room, it’s important? You need in?”
I nod frantically.
“I’ll get the key. This house is a crime scene. As a detective, I have the right to search.”
I feel fresh moisture on my cheeks.
“Are you scared?”
I nod.
“Do you want to go back upstairs?”
I shake my head.
She reaches out, touches my cheek. Her blue eyes are clear, her features hard. I know she means it when she says, “No one is going to hurt you, Bonita.”
I can’t help myself. I smile, my crooked, awful smile, all my drooping mouth has ever been able to manage. She doesn’t understand. And I’m still just a Stupid Girl. I take her hand. I press it against my cheek. I let her feel my tears. I let myself experience one moment of human kindness. Probably all I have left.
I’m going to die tonight. I fear for Hélène. But I mourn for myself and who I might have been.
Then, I take a deep breath. I straighten my spine. I pull away. I hold up two fingers.
No. She will not be able to save me. No one can defeat the Bad Man.
I turn back down the hall, and stumbling over my own dragging leg, continue my search for Hélène.