The paper's starting to crinkle under my hands, and I don't know what I'm supposed to say to her. I'm not okay, I know that, and I don't think I'm gonna be okay for a long time. But if I tell her, maybe she'll ask why, and then I'll have to tell her about Mr. Sawyer and she'll go looking. (And what good's that? The police are already looking, and even they haven't found him yet. Don't think she'll have better luck. If anything, he might hurt her.)

But I'm not supposed to lie, so I shake my head. "Not really," I reply. "But there ain't nothin' people can do about it."