The Summer I Died

by Ryan C. Thomas

In my book, listening to a drunk get philosophical is on par with rolling down a hill in a barrel full of nails. You get dizzy, your insides shriek with stabbing pain, and you end up someplace lower than where you started.

If I’d only known what was going to happen next I would have taken the gun from Tooth and put bullets in both our brains.

You don’t just concede defeat in these circumstances. You take every second you can find and use it to pray for another few seconds. Hope is a cruel bitch.

On the ground, the now handless woman with the ax in her skull lay staring into oblivion. I envied her.

This book is so dark in all the best ways