Six Sentence Sunday

This excerpt is from Sugar Rush.

Bree saw blood soaking into the concrete, and her knees went weak. She whipped out her cellphone, punching wrong numbers with numb fingers until a man plucked it from her hand.

“I’ve already called 9-1-1,” he said in a voice she recognized for some reason. “They should be here—” The scream of sirens cut off his response.

“Thank you.” She mouthed the words since he wouldn’t hear them anyway.

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