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CHAPTER SIXTY-ONE

MY ART

The smoke slowl skid out my lips which were pressed into a thin line. Their eyes seemed to move with me as they passed by. “Hi pretty,” a black haired man said passing by.

After that sentence I felt my stomach hurt. It was just disgusting for someone as old as Plot to make that remark, especially to someone who was young enough to be his daughter. Something about his eyes seemed shady.

The footsteps approaching caught my attention as the cigarette on my hand dropped on the ground. It had to be him, Jack.

A familiar face appeared instead of Jack. “shit,” I mumbled pulling my hoodie up.

“Siren, what are you doing out here so late?” she asked, almost pulling out her pistol from her coat.

Shit April had just saw me. What was I going to tell her about being out at night.

“Hi,” I nervously said.

“You almost scared me you death,” she said with her with

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