Shannon Mayer Books Novels & Stories

Real, warm, sticky blood. She was crying, shaking, and mumbling something about how it was an accident. I took her hands in mine, washed the blood off, smeared it onto my own shirt, and told her to run and never look back. She actually listened, because she never looked back for eight fucking years. Shannon was my undoing. I ended up going to jail for a woman who never replied to any of my letters. 72... Seventy two letters, I wrote her in total... I told her about my cell. About the fights. The way my cell stank of piss and rust. The way my cellmate screamed in his sleep. The way the guards looked at me when I carved her initials into my arm with a broken plastic fork.