My jaw dropped as I caught sightof myself once more: a slim, frail clad in little more than a whisperand a prayer. I looked like a child playing dress...ups with her Mother'scorset and garters. Much younger than my eighteen years anyway.Thirteen, fourteen at the most.(Oh Christ Oh god, I'm NOT a boy, I'm a WOMAN; no I'm a GIRL; NO I'm aLITTLE girl)"Did you really think I'd let you wear something like that at your age?"Mommy was saying. She leaned over my shoulder, pointing to myreflection:. She quietly pulled Betsy’s door halfway closed and headed cautiously through the hall toward the glow of the tree. She tensed, wishing she had picked up the baseball bat that lay in the middle of the boys’ floor. She saw the duffel bag around the corner of the wall first. The edge of the green bag, packed full and covered with dust, was visible sitting next to the recliner. Her pace quickened and by the time she reaching the living room, she was running. She stopped as she reached the entryway,. More

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