It wasn't his rage. I whispered the last against his lips. With my legs together, the angle would have been wrong if we were actually trying to have sex, but that wasn't what the show was about. It was not his room.
Feel their hearts in their chests as if I could have reached out my hand and carved those warm, beating organs from their bodies; as if their flesh was water to me. Richard stared up at me, and I noticed for the first time that he had scratches low on his right cheek. Bruce, I thought. It's that they took his life and didn't give him another one.
Join the newsletter to receive news, updates, new products and freebies in your inbox.