His upper body fell. His jaw moved, but the eyes didn’t.

She stared over at him.

She felt so cold inside. None of it seemed real. Meaty bits of her dad were flowing out of his chest cavity. Floorboards had been ripped up and splintered and lots of the bloody bits were sloughing off into the holes.

Bloody bits were sloughing off of her. She wiped at one with her hand, and something snapped across her hand, pinky to thumb. The energy slapped her across the head, loud and blinding.

Hair whipped around and settled. A white lock lay across her face, and she didn’t dare touch it in case it happened again.

“Ashley,” her mother said. “Don’t look. Please. Don’t look, just come to me, okay honey?”

Ashley felt like she was going to pee herself. She had a moment where she felt horribly off balance, like she couldn’t stand straight. In the following moments, she had to convince herself she was sprawled against the table by the couch. Not even standing.

“I’m hurt, honey. Help me, and we’ll help you.”

Ashley started to move. She felt tension in her arms with every movement of her hands, like rubber bands being drawn tight. She stopped.

“Ashlet,” her mother said. Something she’d called Ashley when Ashley had been little.

With renewed effort, Ashley worked her way to a standing position. She felt the pain in the side of her face, her hand, her scalp. She moved as best as she could without moving her hands a lot, balling them up into fists. Her forearm rested against the arm of the couch.

She had to navigate the long way around as she circled the hole in the floor and the pieces of Dad.

She nearly slipped on a bloody smear, and then the feeling of that underfoot made everything feel very real. Her knees went out under her, and she fell to the ground. Tension danced across her hands and through her arms as her hands pressed against the ground.

“It’s okay,” her mother said.

Ashley nodded, mute. She was grateful for those two and a half words.

“Come here,” her mother said. “Look at you.”

Ashley crawled to get nearer. Her mother’s face was barely recognizable, but the expression on it was very much her mom.

“How special is that?” her mother said, touching Ashley’s hair where it was white.

“Mom,” Ashley said. She sounded like a little kid again and she didn’t even care, now.

“Shhh, Ashlet. It’s okay. Okay?”

Her dad’s mockery from earlier rang in her ears, so vivid she had to check to see that he was there.

Seeing the mess was—it wasn’t better than seeing him looming behind her would have been.

“Shhh,” her mom said. “You’re going to get a phone, okay? We’re going to call for help.”

Ashley shook her head.

“We’re going to call me an ambulance, okay, because I don’t think I can stand up. My leg hurts. Then we’re going to call the police, and we’re going to explain—”