Page 518 - Anonymous
P. 518
big evil world, but the bad stuff finds
them. We can never be in all places at
once. I walk over to my father's alcohol
cabinet and pull out the scotch. I carry it
into the kitchen, grab a glass, and pour
myself two fingers. The liquid burns its
way down my throat, and I feel the tears
push their way out. My body trembles as
I cling onto the glass and reality for dear
life. There's a missing piece. Why on
earth can't I see it?
