Chapter Eleven


The trailer looked so mundane and ordinary after the scene I’d witnessed at the strip club. I limped in and locked the flimsy door, casting an eye at the gaping hole just beside it. Who was I kidding? If that mad man came here, I was screwed.

I headed for Billy’s room. The smell inside was faded, and yet, still strong enough to make me want to cry again. Why couldn’t he be here? My godfather had always protected me and made me feel safe. I wanted him to put his arm around me, and stroke my hair, more than I’d ever wanted anything in my life at that moment.

I found the patch-up box easily enough. It was the first time I’d looked in it since he’d died. In fact, it was the first time I’d been in his room in months. It was still too painful and raw.

I put the box on the bed, feeling stiff as the adrenaline faded from my muscles and left me feeling shaky and pained. The blood on my leg was dried now, and the place where the glass had cut was sore but manageable. The scratches on my
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