bed the fire escape, the chill of the Las Vegas night a welcome relief after two days on a bus. She'd w

ed through, closed it, pulled the blackout curtains. T

sixty, she sat up. When she reached one-twenty, she s

the cheap cotton smelling of rain and fear. She carried it to the metal barrel in the corner,

ckening, curling, disappearing. She watched until there was nothing b

ce was pale, drawn, her eyes too

ned the

three sizes too large, stained with coffee, with grease, with the careful applicatio

tive, the way it had been since she was sixteen. She grabbed a handful and cut.

, uneven, falling across her face in a way that hid her

ght from a costume shop. She added the makeup, the special clay

forward, her spine curve, her chin drop. She practiced breathing through

irl who'd never fought back, never held a knife, never c

breath. Now, she could move. The last pill was go