Devourer of Souls
Jake Burns a few years ago, he’d never learned how to act like the rest of us.
His sneering grin exposed slightly yellow teeth. “How’s it hanging, bitches?”
Kevin, standing next to me and rummaging through some old issues of The Hulk, murmured, “If we’re bitches, then nothing is hanging, Jake.”
I snorted and glanced at Jake. As usual, when one of his one-liners fell flat he just looked confused. “Screw off, Ellison. Why dontcha go dribble your balls somewhere?”
Kevin’s laugh was quiet but somehow gentle. He was easily the kindest of us, definitely kinder than me. Why couldn’t have Jake latched onto him instead?
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