RIO
I didn't know how long I’d sat broken against the cool cement walk in the alleyway between Bethany’s shop and the bookstore. Everything in me wanted to break out and scream.
I wanted to hurt someone. No, I wanted to hurt them.
She wanted to hurt them!
We wanted blood!
A darkness, a rage consumed me like never before.
The cool breeze did nothing to the dampness on my skin; it stuck to it, absorbed into my growing darkness.
My gums ached. My head was pounding. My heart—broken.
They murdered my mother.
They looked me in the face, smiled and offered me false comfort, knowing that they were the reason for my pain.
I wanted them dead.
I could do that. I was Rio Ricard. I could pay someone to do it, but I wouldn’t.
I wanted to do it myself.
I would do it myself.
These dark tho
