It was a sacrifice worthy of her and dreams are made to be killed.
He looked along the line of children, exhibits A to C of his existence and heirs to the twisted throne of his corrupt genetics.
So you’re the little smart ass from Poleglass.” I wanted to point out he sounded like Dr. Seuss but bit my lip and remembered the warning the old lady gave me.
He was a shadow of the man that once intimidated us out of our home, a shell of a human being, a fragment of a father.
