My fingers wrap around the stone in my pocket, your sticky blood still warm to the touch. I was going to throw it in the
This was not the most salubrious establishment in town. The note on the window told you it’s owners were shadowy characters, not open to complaints.
That’s where she kept me. The room with the blinds. I remember once letting the blinds up, the light from the sun was amazing. She
“Name?” “Peter Jones.” “You’re late. You should’ve been here Tuesday. What kept you? When did you die?” “This morning, I think. I remember stepping into
It is a crude form of imprisonment and one I could escape from whenever I want to, but for now, I am happy to sit