I guess he has a point. “I don’t know.” Looking down, I wring my hands. “She was murdered, Knox…then left out in the woods to rot like a piece of garbage. And the people who can help figure out who did it don’t seem to give a shit just because she took off her clothes for a living.” My arms curl around my frame. “I know what it feels like to know that no one in the world gives a fuck about you. And the more I think about it, I’m realizing that it could have easily been me who was murdered instead of her.” I shrug. “I guess I’d just like to know someone would still fight for me if it was.”
