syfa ౨ৎ

8%
Flag icon
conversation. I didn’t tell them about the tug of a catheter being pulled from between my legs; the mole on the doctor’s chin, a blot showing through her powder like an eclipsed sun; Silas’s voice saying, “Can she—?” and the distant realization that “she” was me. Can she what?
My Murder
Rate this book
Clear rating
Open Preview