The Faded Root
The crack splits your father’s temple before the scream does. It is a black fissure, jagged and deep, running from his hairline to his jaw. He does not bleed. He only looks at you, his eyes wide and wet, and his mouth opens in a silent O. The sound that comes out is not a word. It is a wet, tearing noise, like wet paper being ripped apart. You drop the folder of paperwork on the kitchen table....
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