Decayed Page 7
I cocked my head, amused.
“I know, I know,” he held his elegant hands out jokingly, “our parents were not very creative.”
Smiling, her turned around and headed to the kitchen. I jumped as a car passed outside, hiding behind the safety of the worn couch. I hoped that Abel was as nice as he seemed to be. As I watched the blurred lights pass by, my stomach grew tight. One thought stuck deeply in my mind, and my skin crawled with the need to shake it off and throw it around to prove it still existed. I still had a soul.
Table of Contents
Decayed
Midpoint
