s**t. s**t. f**k.
I took the staircase down two steps at a time, uncaring of the loud thump of my footsteps or the string of profanity I couldn’t seem to stop.
I’d bolted the moment the soft, older woman had broken into a wide, jack-o-lantern smile, with a mouth so much like Vic’s.
Won’t he be surprised?
I was leaving this house. I didn’t care what was in the basement. I didn’t care what was in the attic, or the f*****g broom closet or under the goddamn floorboards. I wanted the f**k out.
I tripped over my own feet and tumbled down the last couple steps, knocking the breath out of my lungs.
Rolling over onto my back, I stared at the ceiling. The light from the moon spilled through a window of small diamond panes, and I studied the plaster-cast detailing while I waited for my heart to
