never going to read it. I sit down at the desk and peer at the razor blade for a moment, glinting dully under the fluorescent lights before reaching for my pencil. I look at the small nub that she left me and hope that it will be enough to get the job done.
I have yelled myself hoarse and I have beaten on the door until my knuckles are bloody. I know that no one is coming. I wonder if they will ever find me. Soon it won’t matter but for now I will write. I hope it will make it seem that this all had a point to it. That my life didn’t just evaporate when she first turned the key in the lock.
So I sit in the room that has become my cell and I write…
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
R. Frederick Hamilton is a young up and comer.
LEGUMEMAN BOOKS
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