Chapter Twelve
I’m hating the color indigo these days. So I bang my forehead with my silencers tip, just to stop from going completely nuts, my heart thumping. I calm, exhale, reach down, and pry my baby’s fingernail from the ice.
Swallowing my own bile, I lift it to my eyes, focus and, then my bod begins to shudder, shake and vibrate out of its pinions. I go down in a crouch, whack my face in my hands, hyperventilating. I’m trying to get it together, for good times are coming. I am positive about that.
FROZEN ALIVE.
Hammers my brain.
Don’t have a watch, but I can hear the Tick, Tick, Tick of my violence clock. It’s counting down, thundering in my temples, throbbing in my neck that is so filled with blood, it just might detonate before I do.
REALITY TIME.
I could call Lou; tell him
