In the past three days, Iris had given birth three times—each time she’d gone to the bathroom to defecate.
It looked like blood, except it was the wrong color. Too thick. It almost felt like the slime we used to play with as kids. The kind that stuck to the wall and crawled its way down.
More screams and cries rang out in the forest scattering the birds. He had to get to her before she disappeared like the rest of the women.
Sammy was always there.
This whole failing at dating thing is starting to get to me. I’m beginning to think there’s something wrong with me.
“I feel like a fucking idiot looking back, but at the time… How the hell could I have guessed what was going on?”
I found out I was adopted at the age of eight. It was a strange experience and since then, I have been trying to find my birth mother with no luck.
He wishes he could reassure her more but to do so would be telling her the truth, then she might not rate him as worthy of her trust at all.
She was in the middle of a really funny story when Daddy grabbed her and dragged her across the lawn. The other children cheered as Daddy slipped a noose on Clara and threw the other end of the rope over a tree branch.