give me a sentence from one of your WIPs that you're really proud of
“Dad didn’t tell you?” She parroted, just above a whisper for fear her voice would betray her. The lump in her throat was the size of a golf ball.
Poppy shook her head. “I’m sorry…”
Her knees felt weak. She dropped to the ground, breathing heavily. Clay practically materialized at her side, kneeling beside her. She was so dizzy. It was like her whole world was collapsing.
Dad hadn’t told her. He’d practically erased her entire existence. All this time, he’d been alive — had he even looked for her? For any of them? Had she even meant anything to him?
But if that were true then… then what did that make her? She’d never once stepped foot outside the grounds of the golf course. She had never gone searching for her family. But she’d thought — she’d really thought—
Gentle hands grabbed hers, pulling them away from her head. She hadn’t even realized she’d been doing it again: hitting her head with her fists. Clay held her hands in his own, squeezing, but she couldn’t find the strength to squeeze back.
“I’m sorry,” she whimpered, out of breath, “I’m sorry, I’m so so so sorry, I—” she dissolved into tears, unable to see a single thing in front of her through the watery blur.
“Viva…” Poppy said, her vague shape sat somewhere in front of the girl. “It’s okay. I’m… I’m mad at him too. You have nothing to apologize for.”
“I sh-should have looked,” she sobbed, her hands twitching to claw at her head again. Clay’s grip held steady. “I should have looked for you.”
“Dangerous,” Clay muttered, quiet enough for only her to hear. “We needed you.”