Chapter 10: The Wild Women Return

Night fell. I marked the stone with the red marker, my hand aching.

My father and the men tossed wilted gas station carnations on the grave, laughing and swapping filthy jokes about my mother.

My stomach churned. The marker slipped from my fingers, ink blooming in the dirt.

Suddenly, the air turned sweet and sticky, like honeysuckle left too long in the sun, making the men restless and wild-eyed.

Thirty-six wild women appeared outside the chalk circle—each the spitting image of my mother. Their white hair vanished, revealing skin pale as snow under the moon.

The men’s eyes went glassy with lust. "Never seen such beauties! Think we can touch ‘em? Five bucks a piece?"

Their talk got uglier. I clenched my fists, nails biting my palms. But I was just a girl. I could only listen as they joked and drooled.

"Should we go out and get a free sample?" my father said, eyes gleaming.