Brigit
She felt Megan kiss the side of her nose, smelled Megan’s sweat and fear, heard her say what a good girl Brigit was. She wanted to open her eyes and look at Megan, but she was too exhausted and drowsy.
“You’re a good girl,” Megan repeated as she stroked Brigit’s ear.
I am a good girl.
Brigit could still taste the man’s blood in her mouth. He’d been fun to chase, at least until something hot and hard had hit her in the chest. That had hurt. But now she was feeling no pain.
She drifted off to Megan’s mantra. “You’re a good, good girl.”