Prologue

Zac read through the rest of the letter he'd written. He knew he wouldn't send it. What was the point? Just like all the other letters he'd written while he'd been here, this one would end up in the shoe-box that also held the new pair of Nikes his Grandma had sent him for Christmas. She didn't hate him; she pitied him. He didn't know which was worse. Either way, she was company. Company he had to wait until summer for. Grandma didn't like making long trips, and she never left Tulsa during the winter. Now spring was almost over, she must have decided not to come. Why risk the rain?
"Hello Zachary! How are you today?" he smiled and nodded. Nurse Wright sighed, the boy hadn't spoken a word since it'd happened. The poor kid, how hard must it have been on him?
"Medication time," she said with forced cheerfulness. A smile and a nod was all the answer she got. Inside, Zac was sobbing hysterically.
'No! Not more Prozac! You can't do this to me! Leave me alone!!!'
Obediently, he opened, and swallowed.
"There, good boy. Now let's take a look at your arm," gently unwinding the bandages, the nurse couldn't help but wince when she saw that withered arm, scars twisting gruesomely across the flesh that hadn't been eaten away. In all her years of nursing, it was the most hideous thing she'd ever seen. Zac smiled and nodded, wanting to be sick. This arm had been the proof. That he was guilty.
'Zac! Zac!' the desperate voice that haunted him like a ghost whispered in his ear. 'Zac! Help me please!!'
'Vinn!!' his own voice, helpless.
Now came the most painful part. He knew, because it happened every day. The nurse would strap him into the chair and attack his disfigured left arm. She picked up a cotton swab with a pair of tweezers. He braced himself. The cotton touched the raw, weeping flesh. He screamed.


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