None of them were quick enough for the way the abandoned Liv moved. She dove at Abby, a glint of metal in her right hand and murder shining out of her eyes, tackling Abby to the ground. Abby grabbed her arm just in time, holding the metal thing – a box cutter, what a shitty way to die – away from her chest by only an inch.
She got a foot into the mix and pressed it against Liv’s stomach, remembering, entirely ridiculously, this time when she and Liv, both much younger, had gotten into a wrestling match over a Barbie doll. The doll had lost its head and an arm by the time they calmed down – that was the sort of fight that the two of them’d had, back when they were younger and they could solve things by throwing things and breaking dolls.
It was suddenly too much. Her grip on Liv’s arm went limp, and it was only the other two Livs that saved her from a really unpleasant end. She pushed away and curled up on herself, laughing or crying or possibly, probably, both. Continue reading