chapter four
MORGAN
I throw myself into the couch and fling an arm over my eyes to hide from the light. My little apartment feels even more cramped after seeing the spacious and lavish Kelly mansion.
I want a mansion
“So say it again. You looked at him and he looked… broken?” Francesca is sitting on the handle of the armchair munching noisily on fried plantain chips.
“Not just broken,” I wave my free arm, the one not covering my face, “haunted. It was really weird. When he looked at me, I almost peed my pants.”
“Do you think he needs an exorcist or…”
“Not haunted like that. Like there’s something inside him that’s eating him up from the inside. I can’t explain it.”
“Morgan, you just met three of the most famous Belizeans in the history of Belize. Of course, you’d hallucinate. So te
