I gasped. The shock of pain spread through my skull as blood started to trickle down my face.
But Ginny was merciless! She kept hitting me, over and over, her grip as brutal as her words!
I tried to fight back, but she was stronger than I imagined.
My arms felt weak. I was powerless against the monster she unleashed.
All I could do was lie there, broken and bruised, wondering how it had all come to this.
Then I heard slow footsteps on the stairs.
Mom!
"What happened? Did someone fall?" she asked.
For a brief, desperate moment, I thought I was saved.
I could barely get the words out, my voice shaky. But I called, "Mom! Mom, help! Please!"
The footsteps quickened, and I let myself hope—just for a sec—that she'd finally see what was really happening. That she'd save me, too.
But Ginny's hand released my hair just before Mom opened the door.
In one horrifying moment, Ginny messed up her own hair, and then, with terrifying precision, she grabbed my hand and scratched her neck with it. Deep, angry red marks appeared instantly.
When Mom burst through the door, everything slowed.
Ginny was on the floor—her eyes wide and tearful, her face bruised and pitiful.