Entry 4

Who’s that boy? I don't remember no boy. I only remember coming back from town, the lady still in me cabin and looking better somehow, cheeks pink like bloody meat. I was screaming then, staring at the boy’s eyes. Empty holes, cut up jagged like with a knife. I reached out to cover those eyes but she grabbed me. Cold and strong, like she were steel inside. I kicked the boy into a wolfskin rug. Rolled him into the storm and that was that.