CHAPTER 7
HAWK
It's been a while since I've carried someone on my bike, let alone a mother and her child. The little girl sat comfortably on my bike; she touched a couple of wires and played with her keys while we waited for her mother to return. Calling Fatty a mother still feels so new to me—something I never thought I would say. Six years have passed, and she has changed so much. The last time I saw her, she looked more mature, grown up, but I can also tell that she looks worn out. It's like she has been fighting for her life.
She looked all stressed out; even if she tries to hide it, I can see it clearly on her face.
That asshole has been mistreating her.
There's no tangible reason why she got caught up in a fire with her toddler, and he is nowhere to be found.
I have a gut feel
