![]() ![]() Her hands are still dripping in blood and the rock she used to bash the other guy’s head in is laying at her feet, glistening with his blood and brain matter. ![]() I was kinda hoping the kid would have a little less backbone but there she is. There’s a crunching noise, the kind where there’s no coming back from, and my eyes drift back to the clearing as the jeering and shouts die down. That should make it my kind of place but the posturing bullshit that comes with the Twelve means I fucking loathe it. There isn’t a cop in the Bay that would set foot in this place without a gun pressed against the back of their skull. There’s more skeletons in this place than all the fucking cemeteries in the state combined, easily. There are many places I’d rather be at 2am on a Saturday morning than the shitty forest at the edge of Mounts Bay. To the monsters we all have hiding inside us. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. ![]()
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