Page 307 - Anonymous

the furniture. You have good taste. I

look at the family photos hanging on the

wall, and I feel an anger I haven't in a

while. I wonder if what I should have

done in the first place is slice you to

shreds, let you bleed out. You have

everything, Sin, everything, and that can't

be fair. It isn't. I pick up a few essential

items, and I'm about to get the hell out

when I hear the door. I still mid-stride