For the first time in decades I was free of the past, free of the screams, free of the room that bound me. I gasped and dropped my head to my hand. The elation, the pressure, the relief flooded through me and I permitted myself this moment to breath. I smiled as I cried. It was done.
I gazed at the ninety-six thousand word manuscript and punched in the words "THE END." I hit save and sat back in my chair for a moment and took up the warm Guinness sitting beside me. After chugging the last of the beer, I returned my hands to the keys.
“Control. Home,” I said as I enter the command into my keyboard. Under the word "Broken," I typed "by William D. Shaw" then sat back in my chair and relished the accomplishment just as the familiar plink of an email notification came through.
Heat filled my
