A little pizza, a little wine, some soft music and six months of exhaustion, I would have thought I’d sleep okay without a pill. And I would have if the goddamn phone hadn’t rung ten minutes after I dropped off.
“Forté.” The same voice as before.
“Lurch,” I said.
“Can you survive time in prison?”
I was just tired enough. I had no more adrenaline. My stomach was through puking. I was tired of being tired. Tired of being worried. Tired of this fuck believing he could get into my head.
“Can you kiss my ass?”
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