“Who hurt you?” I asked her the question that was baiting me most. A part of me wanted to believe that this had somehow been an accident, because picturing some motherfucker with his hands wrapped around her throat was about to turn me into an even bigger serial killer than I already was. But those fingerprints were an admission of their own. Someone, some rat, some fucking scum had done that to her. And I would not rest until they lay in pieces at my feet.
