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To the survivors of Newtown
Table of Contents
I sit on the itchy couch and stare at Mommy’s eyes, wishing for them to open. Everyone tells me she’s going to wake up, but it’s been two days. Aunt Sierra promised and the doctor said so.
But Daddy’s not coming back. Ever.
In my vision, it was Sierra who died. I was just trying to stop that.
But things didn’t happen like I thought.
Sierra’s alive. And Daddy’s not.
A lady came in to talk to her. They’ve been outside in the hall for a long time. I look at Mommy and then slide down from the couch and sneak to the door. They’re quiet, but if I put my ear right where the door isn’t quite closed, I can hear them.
“It was supposed to be me,” my aunt says in an angry whisper, and my stomach starts to hurt. I didn’t want her to know. Now she’ll figure out I changed things.
“You?”
“Yes, it was supposed to be me and I did nothing. Give me some credit.”
“Then who?” the other lady asks.
I cross my fingers, but Sierra still tells on me. “It must have been Charlotte. It would’ve terrified her.”
“You know how severe
