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Summary
“They’re making a mistake. They’re all making a huge fucking mistake throwing you out like trash.”
“Language.”
“I’ll make them pay for it.” He slumped back against the cold wall on the opposite side of the cellar. An awful, sore, swollen hand wrapped around the bars, perhaps in an attempt to pull them free and allow you an opportunity to run far away from everything and never look back. “I promise.”
Weakly, you reached through the gaps in the bars and curled your fingers around his.
He couldn't muster the courage to look you in the eyes. “I hope you die fast.”
And he meant well.
“Me too.”
An anonymous tip launches you into the arms of two strangers who gawk at you like you’re the strangest thing to have ever crawled from the endless trash heap below the sky.
And, all things considered, you probably are.