Страница 7 из 73
HUNTER
Eighteen Years Ago...
Everything hurts. My stomach is empty and sloshing around from the water Mom gave me three hours ago. I can feel how hungry I am.
The stained mattress on my floor has coiled wires poking at my back. It’s dark. I’m not sure Mom paid the electricity bill this month. She has other debts that take priority.
But I’m not scared.
I’m not sure how long I’ve been forgotten. Years, maybe? Maybe since I was born. I guess it’s hard to remember your son when you have needles and meth to fill your time.
Mom has friends over. Loud friends that like to groan and moan. Forest doesn’t know. He’s too high. The cracks in our walls tell their secrets.
One of them is angry. Really, really angry.
I look out the window in my room and pray. Mom once told me God wasn’t real. She said he was for people with money. So I pray in secret.
I beg for a way out.
Forest knows—I can hear him now.
The room is loud. So, so loud.
I fall asleep to the familiar lullaby of screams.