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Summary
Jessie doesn’t tell her mother that the mud in their yard, the sweet smelling, warm earth that her childhood was soaked in, has the same consistency as congealed blood. She doesn’t tell her father that she knows what the inside of a man’s skull looks like, brain matter and bone shards scattered across cracking stone. She doesn’t tell her parents a lot of things.
But they know, dear god, they know.
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Jessie and Joel in the aftermath.