Somerset’s free hand caressed Erin’s head, then suddenly her fingers buried themselves in her short hair. “Ready?” Bridget asked, her voice br...athless with impatience. Mrs. Somerset nodded, flexing her fingers. “Go!” The next moment was a blur. Before I could even properly brace myself for the first touch of the leather flap, Mrs. Somerset had swung it upward while pushing Erin’s head between her legs. A sharp, hot pain shot through the inside of my thigh, a hand’s width above my knee, driving. Horrific as that was, my family -- Walker, Vanessa, Pilar -- were targeted to be killed by Greta Gunther. Me too, but by that time I wouldn’t have much cared. Or maybe some deep rage would have had me fighting to the bitter end.In any case, I found myself exploding awake, heartbeat in Emergency Room ranges, gasping for air. Breathless. Other nights, after Vanessa was fully in the clasp of Morpheus, I just lay there, crying silently beside her.Time for a change.Dr. Conners lives in Mission. More

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