Chapter 8

Derek brought my doll out carefully. 

He and Dad had spent the whole night fixing my misshapen arm, smoothing the lumpy cotton back into place. 

But the stretched, shredded outer skin where they’d ripped out the cotton stuffing was damaged beyond any mending. 

“Just as I feared.” Lucas let out a bitter, 

self–deprecating smile, his features heavy with dread. 

He thought for a long moment. 

Then he filled a basin with water.