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The drips of blood that trailed him like scarlet breadcrumbs assured him that this wasn’t a dream.
“I’m just saying”—he shrugged—“we think we’re safe until we’re dead.”
A future was just that: the rest of your life. A relationship could crumble at any opportunity.
Ever since she was a kid, she’d cry when she was scared or angry, as though processing an excess of emotion at once was too much for her to handle.
“I have my radar set to batshit. I can smell a psycho from a mile away.”
Passive-aggressiveness had slithered into his bloodstream, infecting him like a disease.
“If I told you what happened, you would never leave this room again.”
They’re intelligent.
Nope. Nope. Nope.
