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“Please, arrest me. I’d rather go to jail than go back to that house…”

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unrecognizable register that surprised even me. “I promise you, I’m going to bury them.”

I left the diner an hour later, my blood buzzing with a dangerous, electric surge of vindictive hope. I walked out into the deserted, poorly lit gravel parking lot, my keys clutched tightly in my fist. But as I approached the familiar silhouette of my sedan, that continue reading …

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