Oh, relax. Don’t call the cops – yet.
Because the person I must kill is fictional. You’re safe. For now.
Seriously though. This is the hardest part of my job. Some authors love killing off their babies. Other authors wouldn’t DARE. Me? I listen to the Muse and do as she commands, which means there will be one less member of the Find Me crew by the end of today.
Riley will be devastated.
“I’m sorry, he’s gone,” the Doctor said.
The room spun like a child’s top and I reached out for the closest object to my left to steady myself. A medical supply cart on wheels went flying under my weight, striking the wall with a loud bang and I landed with an oafish thump on my hands and knees. The noise startled the baby awake and she wailed into the room like someone had dropped her, even though Jacks had her pressed tightly to his chest.
“No.” It was a raspy whisper, my voice, and that was the only word I could utter.
– Copyright Trish Marie Dawson, Find Me 3