As the ink flowed, the throbbing in her hand turned into a dull hum. By the time she reached the third page, the "Awesome Vid" she had planned to record for her imaginary fans wasn't about backyard stunts anymore. It was a manifesto.
She propped her digital camera up on a stack of encyclopedias. The red recording light flickered to life. As the ink flowed, the throbbing in her
She hit stop, saved the file as July222007.wmv , and finally went to find the ice. She propped her digital camera up on a
The heavy oak door didn't just close; it punctuated the end of the argument with a bone-rattling thud. The heavy oak door didn't just close; it
In the sudden silence of the hallway, eight-year-old Tara stared at her hands. Her fingertips were already throbbing, trapped in the narrow gap where wood met frame. She didn't scream. Instead, she took a shaky breath, pulled her fingers free, and watched the angry red welts begin to bloom across her knuckles.
