2
Demons
Rose
Five years later—present day. Rose, age thirty.
“Rose, do you know why you’re here?”
This b***h.
“You ask the same f*****g question every time we meet. I’m here because you think I’m crazy.”
Okay, I really am crazy, but seriously, her questions are becoming redundant.
I lift my head to the woman who sits across from me. The plan was to give her the same answer. But time is running out. I haven’t fully decided when I plan to tell the story. The one the media splashes across the jumbo screens on the streets and on the vid screens in their homes.
Fucking morons.
“That’s not a term I would associate with your condition.”
My condition.
My condition isn’t a condition at all. The veil has been lifted. I see things and people for who and what they really are. Meat. Lambs
