Chapter Ten
Don’t feel too bad about being brainwashed.
–Dr. Abigail Rosen, The F Word: Femininity in the New Century
Mitch’s shoulder radiated pain when she moved her arm in any of a half dozen habitual directions. Throwing that mug had felt like a shining burst of perfect clarity, an action she deemed worth the subsequent hours of discomfort. She winced with each shift of her truck’s stiff gears while she drove over hell’s half acre trying to burn off her mad.
It didn’t work. Midnight found her prowling around her house, hungry but with a taste for nothing in the fridge, spoiling for a fight with anything she could convince to get in her way. But nothing was getting in her way—especially not Chester, who’d had the good sense to hide even before she’d finished getting the front door o
