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Summary
The naked boy shivered on the cracked asphalt, the bones of his ribs drawn under the thin skin like they'd been painted with charcoal
"Mister…" the voice came out thin, cracked. "Are you my daddy?"
The crowbar grew heavy. He lifted his arm. "Billy, no!" But the arm didn't come down. "I'm scared"
And Billy Butcher, who'd planned this moment for years, let the crowbar fall. "Pick up the kid. And someone get me a fuckin' blanket"