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Trunk Stories
9 years ago
I think I wrote this at some point in 2014. I'm not certain if I had intended for the current ending to be the true ending or not, but I found this while flipping through some old files and thought it was interesting enough to share.
~Monsters~
Martin Bradley stares with his fingers poised over the keyboard as a cursor flashes back at him on a blank screen. A welcome summer breeze billows through the open window of the seventh floor apartment, rifling a hefty stack of bills. The bell tower in the Old District tolls six o’clock in the evening.
Time, Martin thinks, there’s still time.
Writing used to come so easy; words would flow onto the page like magic. The Daily Eagle even wrote several articles highlighting Martin’s work. Things were going so well until the monsters came.
They whispered at first, a mere nuisance. As time passed, they grew louder and spoke more often.
Martin’s fingers twitch. They graze the keys and lurch back to grab the phone buzzing on the desk. A blank screen continues to flash.
“Hello?”
“Mr. Bradley, it’s me, Ms. Prichard. I’ve been as patient as I can. I need the rent by tomorrow evening.”
“I’m sorry Ms. Prichard. Things have been difficult lately.”
“I don’t see what the problem is. You’re a writer. Write something and pay the rent. I don’t want to evict you, you’re a very nice young man, but enough is enough.”
“Don’t worry Ms. Prichard, I’m working on a story right now. I’ll get you your money.”
“Good, I look forward to seeing you tomorrow with the rent.”
The bell tower in the Old District tolls seven o’clock. Each chime rings with its own unique tone of dread through the open window.
Martin hammers out a few lines of prose. Not good enough, he thinks, rereading his work. He punches the delete key and the words disappear. A blank screen flashes once more. New words ripen in his mind, but before he can paint them on the page, the phone buzzes again. Martin hits the ignore button, not bothering to check the name. He resists the urge to throw the accursed thing out the window, settling for turning it off and tossing it aside. A new phone is not in the budget.
Martin struggles to recall the words, his latest great idea, but the moment has passed. The words are gone, little more than dust in the wind.
“Just give up,” says a voice in the back of his head.
“You were never that good anyway,” says another.
“Go away,” says Martin. He intends for his voice to boom with defiance, but it trickles forth laced with doubt.
The voices roar with laughter. “You’re afraid, Martin. Why are you so afraid?”
“I- I don’t know.”
“You’ll know soon enough, Martin. You can trust us on that. We would never lie to you.”
Martin rolls away from his desk and sticks his head out the window until the voices die away. Fresh air, all I need is some fresh air. Just a quick trip around the block to clear my head. Martin grabs his cap and heads outside for a stroll.
Children laugh and play ball in the street, couples hold hands as they embark on a night out, and birds chirp and sing among the rooftops as Martin lopes along. Mirth and merriment grace the world, yet dark clouds loom within Martin’s mind. Rent bills, tax bills, phone bills, and a story unfinished beleaguer his weary mind.
The bell tower in the Old District tolls eight o’clock as Martin returns to his desk. He stares at the blank screen with the cursor flashing. Relax, no need to get desperate yet. There’s plenty of time left in the day. Just type. Let it flow. Fix it later.
And so Martin sits at his desk, his fingers pattering away at the keys. An unknown burden lifts. The blank screen disappears and words begin to fill page after page. The world ceases to exist and Martin fades into his own imagination. The words flow smooth. The bell tower in the Old District tolls as time tumbles on, but to it, Martin is deaf, lost in the throes of passion.
The queerest things will spark the fire that burns within. When blazing hot, only the limitations of imagination can quench such a flame.
A full story’s worth of pages dance on the screen when the bell tower in the Old District tolls midnight. Martin stifles a yawn, cracks his knuckles and stretches. He pops the tab on the last beer in the fridge and returns to his desk, for there is still work to be done.
Martin has been here before; he knows the game. Submitting a first draft is a capital sin. Too many good writers fizzle out by accepting imperfections. Martin refuses to become one of them. A night’s worth of rewriting and editing lies before him, but Martin stakes a great deal of pride in his work and for such a man, close will never be good enough.
As Martin reads his draft, a feint frown twists into an all out scowl. “This is garbage.” He downs the rest of his beer and crinkles the can in his hand.
“You can say that again,” says an all too familiar voice.
“Look at that purple prose, there and there. And is that a cliché? No character development and a generic plot.” The other voices bicker and hanker at all of the flaws. “Nothing in this whole thing is any good. Nope, nothing here but non-salvageable scrap.”
“I can’t believe you wasted four hours on this,” says the first voice. “You should print it out. That way you’ll at least have the satisfaction of crinkling it up and throwing it out. Into the loo of course, shit belongs in the shitter.”
Trunk Stories
9 years ago
@mizal - I'm sharing this one exclusively for you. Here's your incest story.
I wrote this back in 2012, so it's complete and utter shit. A lot of my friends were into politics, and a lot of debates on subjects involving morality were held while guzzling large quantities of alcohol late at night. I haven't bothered to re-read the entire story yet, but if I recall correctly, it was intended to be a commentary on morality, sexuality and censorship. I only wrote a chapter of it, perhaps I realized it sucked and did a horrible job of its intended goal, but enjoy the cringe.
~The Story~ What a stellar title this one was! Hot damn!
~Chapter I - Baptism by Blood~ You have to love a chapter title that has exactly nothing to do with the events of the chapter.
The wind howled and whipped at his small body as he raced through the dense foliage of the forest. Branches and shrubs cut into his soft flesh. Every step opened a new wound. The pouring rain blurred his vision. The cold, damp air burned his throat. He could hear his heart pounding in his chest, his lungs screaming for air, his frail body crying out in agony.
“Karen,” he gasped, “I can’t… keep… going.”
“You can’t stop, Jack. Come on,” she shot back at him without breaking stride.
She heard a crash from behind her and whipped around. Jack lay crumpled on the ground, breathing doggedly and covered in mud.
“Get up!” she hissed quietly. “They’re right behind us. We can’t stop.”
“I can’t go any further… I just can’t,” Jack moaned. “Just go ahead without me… I’ll find somewhere to hide.” The bay of a hound bellowed through the forest. Jack let out an involuntary cry of panic.
“And get torn to pieces by the dogs, with you smelling like an ogre.” Karen pulled Jack to his feet and grabbed his hand. “I’m going to start running. You’re either going to keep up, or get drug along the forest floor. Your choice.” She squeezed his hand so tightly he winced.
Running was awkward with Karen holding his hand, but Jack somehow managed to keep up with her rigorous pace. The hounds let out another resounding bay, closer this time. Jack wet his pants in sheer terror. Not that it mattered. He was already soaked. Jack just hoped that Karen wouldn’t smell his humiliation. He was supposed to be a man. Karen was older than he was but she was still a girl, and she was the one dragging him on when he wanted to give up. Jack felt deeply ashamed.
“What would Pa say if he saw my behavior?” Jack thought. “He’d smack me good upside the head for sure.”
Then Jack realized he didn’t know where Pa was. How long had they been running? Twenty, maybe thirty minutes? It felt like forever. He hadn’t seen Pa since they first scattered into the woods. Was he all right? What about Ma? He didn’t have time to worry about that now. It took everything he had to keep pace with Karen.
Jack could see the banks of a small creek ahead. His parched throat craved a refreshing drink. Hopefully Karen would let them stop.
Together they raced down the bank to the creek and plunged into the water. Jack let out a surprised gasp. The icy cold water sent a chill down Jack’s spine. Jack thought the pouring rain and biting wind had been unbearable.
This was far worse.
“Jack, I can’t hold your hand in the creek. You have to swim by yourself. We’re going to swim downstream. The hounds should lose our trail and scent in the water. But, you have to keep moving and keep with me. Understand?”
Jack nodded in acknowledgement. They sloshed through the murky water. It was slow progress. The cold water quickly sapped what little strength they had left. Their adrenaline all burnt out. The weak current offered little assistance. The rain refused to relent and the wind continued to roar. But, they went on.
After awhile, Jack began to shiver. It began innocently enough, just a little here and there. But, soon he started shivering convulsively. Jack struggled to keep his head above water and his constantly chattering teeth caused water to spill into his mouth. Karen gestured toward one of the banks. Jack shivered so badly he couldn’t even manage to give a sufficient nod of acknowledgement. Karen swam to him and put an arm around him.
“Just kick,” she ordered.
With her help, Jack managed to make it to the bank. Karen helped him up the slope and led him several yards into the woods. He sat down with his back to a tree. Jack shivered worse still and his teeth chattered so fiercely he thought they’d start to chip.
“Take off your clothes,” Karen said as she unbuckled her belt and began to remove her own.
Jack’s eyes opened wide in astonishment. “What are you doing?”
“The wet clothes are going to make us colder. Take them off.”
Jack was hesitant, “But I’ll see you… in the nude.” It was incredibly improper for a brother and sister to see each other naked, and the thought appalled and embarrassed Jack.
Karen pulled her dress off over her head. She only had her hosing and undergarment, a long grey shift, on now. Jack could clearly see her breasts through the tight, wet shift. She was sixteen, four years older than Jack, and already quite developed. Jack felt a strange sensation come over him. He realized he was staring and quickly averted his eyes, embarrassed and ashamed.
“You don’t seem that upset about it,” she scoffed. “Now take them off before you freeze to death. It’s going to take some time to start a fire.” Karen pulled off her hosing and shift. She stood before him completely naked.
“I’m going to start working on a fire. After you get out of those wet clothes, go find some dry tinder and leaves, then get some burnable fuel for after we have it going. Keep moving so you stay warm.”
Jack reluctantly obeyed and began undressing. He had difficulty tugging off his wet clothes since he was still shivering violently. He tried to keep his gaze away from his sister, but despite his shame, his curiosity got the better of him and he took a quick glance when her back was to him. He had never seen a naked woman before.
Long brown hair flowed halfway down her back. Jack’s eyes fell to her rear, which was firm and smooth. She turned slightly and Jack could see her bare chest. Her breasts were round and plump, her nipples hard and perky.
They bounced pleasantly as she moved. Jack noticed her elegant curves and pale trim body. His eyes fell to her tight stomach and down to her wide hips. Then he saw the light brown hair above her loins. “She’s beautiful!”
Jack thought and the strange sensation came over him again only stronger this time. He didn’t understand what was going on with him.
Jack realized he was staring and tore his gaze away before she could notice what he was doing. He shrugged off the rest of his clothes and quickly scurried away to find tinder ashamed at what he had done and embarrassed that she may see his own naked body.
The rain was slowing down and the wind was dying, but it was challenging to find dry tinder. Everything was soaked. Jack began searching in the undergrowth hoping there may be something dry inside. He carefully picked his way through, feeling the woody plants scratching at his bare skin. While crawling along, he heard a rustle behind him and whipped around in alarm. Thorny branches smacked him in his legs and midsection and he let out a sharp cry of pain. A rabbit shot past him and scurried away deeper into the undergrowth. Blood trickled down his abs and legs. The branches just missed his genitals and Jack let out a sigh of relief. He hobbled along gingerly making sure not to let the briars cut him worse than necessary. The cuts were shallow, but stung with every branch that smacked him.
He saw a berry patch ahead and his stomach growled. He made his way to it and greedily began stuffing berries into his mouth. The juicy berries were sweet and sticky. After gorging himself for several minutes, he resentfully tore himself away from the berry patch remembering the task his sister had given him. He made sure to take a note of where the berries were for later.
“Karen must be hungry too,” he thought. As soon as he thought of her, the image of her bare body vividly thrust itself back into his mind. He felt the strange sensation come over him again. He tried to force the image from his mind and focus on finding tinder, but the image of her naked body wouldn’t leave him. Jack stumbled through the undergrowth only half-aware of what he was doing. He didn’t even notice the briars and thorns digging into his soft flesh. His foot caught a root in his absentmindedness, and he went tumbling to the ground landing with a resounding thud.
A snake hissed menacingly and Jack’s heart began to race. Jack felt his body tighten in fear. Jack feared snakes more than anything in the world. He glanced around, unmoving, trying to find it. It hissed again and then Jack saw it. The snake lay coiled up a few feet ahead and to his left. A foul odor hit Jack’s nose. It must be a grass snake, Jack thought. Pa had told him that grass snakes let out a garlic-like smell when they were scared. Jack knew Grass Snakes were harmless, but he didn’t care. He hated and feared all snakes with a passion. It stared at Jack with its bright orange eyes and hissed again. Jack scrambled to his feet, turned, and ran away. The snake never moved.
Jack didn’t stop running until he was nearly back where he had left Karen. He breathed heavily and bent over with his hands on his knees. His body was covered in cuts and scratches from running through the thick undergrowth. Streaks of dry blood ran down all along his body and fresh blood trickled over those. He ached all over but at least his shivering had stopped.
He caught his breath and saw a large rotting oak log in front of him. The wood was porous, wet, and useless, but maybe an animal had made a nest inside that was still dry. Jack gave the log a strong kick with the heel of his foot, and it gave readily. He looked inside the hole he had just made. The log housed a nest of twigs, leaves, pine needles, and forest litter. Jack felt the nest and was pleasantly surprised to find it was still dry. He scooped up as much of the nest as he could and ran back to Karen.
Jack found Karen sitting with her back against an old oak tree. “Did you find tinder?”
“Yeah.” Jack dropped the tinder next to Karen and took a step back, looking around aimlessly. He had forgotten they were both still naked.
Karen set a piece of bark down next to the tinder and placed a piece of wood on top of it. Jack saw she had cut a “V” shaped notch cut into it. She picked up her spindle and began spinning in furiously in the notch. It seemed to fit well, a credit to her part.
Pa had taught them this technique a few years ago. It was called the hand drill. The friction generated would cause a spark. After you caught a spark, you’d tip it onto your piece of bark, transfer it to your tinder pile, and start blowing until it caught fire. It could take anywhere from 30 seconds to 30 minutes to generate a spark.
Pa used to make them practice this technique every day after they finished working in the fields. Pa often made them practice for hours on end. Jack knew being able to make fire without flint was an important skill, but he never understood Pa’s fixation on the matter. Karen had always been better at creating sparks than Jack, much to Pa’s disappoint. Jack watched in anticipation.
Sure enough, it only took a few minutes for Karen to catch a spark. She carefully tipped it onto the bark and moved it to the tinder pile. Taking a deep breath, she let out a long steady blow. The ember glowed brightly, but didn’t catch. She tried again. This time the ember caught. Karen grabbed the pile of kindling she collected while Jack searched for tinder and made a small teepee of twigs over the burning tinder.
“Wow, you accomplished a lot while I looked for the tinder.”
“Thanks. I wouldn’t have had the time if you didn’t take a pit stop.”
“What do you mean?”
Karen pointed at the corners of Jack’s mouth. Jack wiped his fingers over the edges of his mouth. What he saw made him shrink in shame. His fingers were covered in berry juice. He had been gorging himself while his sister had been hard at work gathering materials to start the fire. Today was proving more and more that Jack wasn’t a man yet.
“I… I’m sorry,” Jack mumbled.
Karen laughed, “It’s fine, but I’m hungry too you little glutton. Go bring some back and I’ll get the fire roaring.
Jack turned and started to head toward the berry patch, but Karen stopped him. “What are you doing?”
“I’m going to get you some berries.”
“And carry them how, up your arse? Take your trousers, tie a knot in them pant legs and fill them with berries. Then you can bring enough back for both of us to fill up on.”
“That makes a lot more sense,” Jack muttered as he grabbed his still wet trousers.
Jack retraced his steps to the berries. “I’ve acted disgraceful today,” Jack thought angrily to himself. “Pa would be ashamed. Karen drug me along when I wanted to quit running, she pulled me out of the water when I nearly drowned, and she did nearly all of the work in starting the fire while I pigged out. She even had to tell me how to bring the berries back. I’m supposed to be a man, but everything I’ve done today shows I’m just a boy…”
Jack stopped and slammed his tiny fist into his thigh. He did it again. And again. And again until the pain was too much and he fell down. After a moment, he pushed himself up. Somehow hitting himself made him feel better. The physical punishment pushed the mental anguish of his failure aside. “I deserved that,” he thought.
He found the berry patch without further incident and filled an entire pant leg with berries. He set the crotch of his trousers on his shoulder and carried them back to Karen, holding onto the empty pant leg.
Jack could hear the fire cackling as he returned to their camp. Karen had done an excellent job with the fire. She had placed a ring of stones around the base of the fire and gathered a pile of wood to burn for later. Karen had the rest of their clothes draped over the pile by the fire so they would dry.
“How did you find so much dry wood?”
“It isn’t. That’s why I have the pile next to the fire, so it can dry. Let’s see those berries. I’m starving.”
Jack handed Karen his berry-filled trousers. He still wasn’t used to being naked and started glancing around nervously again.
“What the hell are you doing? Your head’s spinning like a damn owl.” Sit down and have some berries.” Karen patted the ground next to her.
Jack did as he was told, although, he felt uncomfortable sitting next to his sister naked. He made a purposeful effort to keep from nervously looking about and gazed straight ahead into the fire. The warmth of the fire felt invigorating after the long cold day. The air was cool, but the dreary day had turned into a beautifully clear night. They sat together in silence, eating their berries, trying to piece together all that had happened over the past few days. Finally, Jack broke the silence.
“What do we do now?”
Karen had been asking herself the same question. What would they do? She stared thoughtfully at the fire as she spoke. “I think the only we can do is go to Godsbridge like we planned to. Hopefully we’ll find Ma and Pa there.”
“You think they got away?”
“I don’t know. We can only hope.”
“What if…” Jack paused; the thought was too much to bear, “they didn’t make it.”
“You can’t think like that Jackie. You have to have hope. Without hope, you have nothing.”
Karen’s answer didn’t satisfy Jack. They couldn’t ignore the possibility that something bad had happened to Ma and Pa. They needed to come up with a course of action in case the worst came true. “Karen, we cannot ignore the possibility that they don’t show up. Even if they are ok, there’s still the chance that something happened that they couldn’t get there. Even if it’s just a temporary delay. We need some way to get money for an inn and food.”
Karen frowned. “It’s a big city. We’ll be able to find work. I could find work as a seamstress. You should be able to get work on the docks. The docks are always busy. I’m sure, with all the goods moving about, someone could use an extra pair of hands.”
Jack was satisfied with her answer, even if it was only a short-term solution, and stuffed a handful of berries into his mouth. A gust of wind blew through their camp and the fire let out a low roar and bent to the side. Jack heard a rustle in the undergrowth. “Another damn rabbit,” he thought, remembering angrily the one from earlier that had startled him.
Jack turned to look at Karen. She lay sprawled out next to him beside the fire with her head near him. She gave him a warm loving smile.
“I was wondering if you were going to just stare straight into the fire all night.”
Jack lost himself in her soft eyes. Her curvaceous figure glowed in the light of the fire. He felt the strange feeling coming over him again, stronger than ever before. Karen let out a small giggle.
“What’s so funny?”
Karen pointed to Jack’s groin.
He looked down at his lap and his eyes shot wide in alarm. “What the bloody hell!”
“Oh, is this the first time this has happened?”
“Yes, yes! What’s wrong with me?”
“Calm down. It’s perfectly natural.”
“What do you mean?”
“It means your becoming a man.”
“No, it means I’ve dishonored myself, my sister, my entire family!”
Karen began intimately rubbing her breasts and Jack felt the strange feeling come over again, but only this time he was aware of the throbbing in his loins. Karen giggled again.
“Stop that!”
“Calm down Jackie. There are some things in life you just can’t control. Yes, I’m your sister. No, it’s not proper. But, there are far worse things in this world than ‘not being proper.’ Tell me do you want to make love to me?”
“No, of course not!”
“Do you love me?”
“Yes.”
“Do you think I want to make love to you?”
“With the way you’ve been acting, I’m beginning to have my concerns!”
Karen giggled again and rolled over. She pushed herself onto her hand and knees, arched her back, stuck out her chest, and leaned her face right in front of Jack’s. Jack leaned away and Karen leaned closer until Jack fell over onto his side. Karen laughed harder and sat up.
“The point is, Jackie, you know what you will and won’t do. You know you won’t do anything… naughty,” Karen gave a playful wink. “The gods judge you by your actions and your intent. They don’t judge you by what you see.” Karen stretched deliberately slowly, flexing her illustrious body. “The gods could care less about being proper.”
“Well, I don’t know what you’ll do.”
Karen’s body shook with another giggle. Her beautiful breasts bounced delightfully. “True, but you can trust me.”
“You really don’t think the gods would frown on this? Becoming enamored you’re your own sister?”
“You can’t help what your body does. It has a mind of its own sometimes and there’s no shame in that. Honestly, I believe the gods couldn’t care less whether you’re deviant or not. Good and evil are hardly involved in matters of lovemaking. I have to imagine they are only concerned with true actions of good and evil.”
Karen’s words soothed Jack. There truly was much worse in the world than being naked in the presence of his sister. He witnessed this himself over the past few days. “How do things become proper in the first place? Why aren’t all people more concerned with actions of right and wrong rather unwritten rules?”
“I guess things just have a way of coming to be. People get used to something for long enough, and then anything else is seen as sacrilege. Ma told me stories about Barsland in days of old, where it wasn’t uncommon for kings to take family members as their wife. She said some foreigners still do it!”
“That’s amazing! You’d be shunned today.”
“Exactly. Ma said the aristocrats and nobility think such knowledge would lead us into a state of barbarism like Gestburn, so they do all they can to keep the truth locked away. Only famous scholars are allowed to read the few surviving texts.”
“Knowledge could never lead to chaos. That’s just silly.” Jack frowned slightly, “Wait, how did Ma know this if only top scholars are allowed to see the texts?”
“I asked Ma the same thing. When Pa was in the king’s guard, he became best friends with the head librarian at Godsbridge University. Ma said he told Pa many things that would have gotten him a date with the headsman’s ax. She wouldn’t say anything else about it though.”
Karen got up to throw more wood on the fire. She grabbed two rotting pieces of oak from her pile and bent over the fire gently setting them in place. Jack watched as her curvy figure danced in and out of the light of the fire.
He no longer felt ashamed and studied her body eagerly. Karen turned around and caught him staring. Jack flushed slightly.
“You’ve come a long way in a short time,” she mocked. She grabbed their clothes from the woodpile, laid them on the ground next to the fire, and lay down. She patted the spot next to her, next to the fire. “I think it’s time we called it a day.”
Jack suddenly realized how drained he felt. He obeyed and lay down between Karen and the fire. Karen wrapped an arm around him and held him close to her.
She whispered softly in his ear, “Good night, Jackie.” And they went to sleep.
Trunk Stories
9 years ago
Oh, I actually really liked this one. I was going to turn it into a CYOA, but I guess life distracted me. This looks like a 2014 trunk special.
~Shoveling~
BEEP, BEEP, BEEP
You roll out of bed and punch the kill button on the alarm clock. The droning noise actually serves as a pleasant reprieve from the sleepless throes of the night. How could anyone sleep with all the shit the world keeps throwing at you? If there is a God, he is one cruel, malevolent prick.
The state has made yet another budget cut, and of course, your park took the largest financial hit out of everyone in the system. But shit, that didn’t stop the Governor from increasing his own fucking salary, the cocksucker. You had to let one of your rangers go, so now you only have one man to patrol over 10,000 acres of lakes and woodland. And that asshole Stephen Harrison at the regional office wants to know why your park has such a horrid crime rate? Fuck him. But it gets worse. You couldn’t even keep the ranger you wanted because that lazy jack-off Gordon Hull has connections with the Park System Director, so you’re stuck with his worthless ass.
You dress and head into the living room where you just avoid stepping on a used condom lying on the carpet.
Clair, your baby-momma, snores in blissful slumber on the couch, completely naked and with a still smoldering cigarette trapped between her fingers. Apparently, someone had a fun night.
You snatch the cigarette and crush it in the ashtray. With one catastrophe avoided, you nudge Clair awake with the bottom of your boot. “Are you coming with me or not?”
“Huh?” Clair stares at you through bloodshot eyes.
“To the hospital. You know. To pick up our daughter and talk to her doctors.”
Clair continues to stare.
“Regarding her migraines.”
“Oh yeah… I think I’ll just have you fill me in on the details later. I’m going to go back to sleep. I was up all night fucking with Tony. He’s such a little bitch.” She yawns, rolls over and buries her head into the pillow. By the time you reach the door, she’s snoring again.
How did life devolve to this point of absolute depravity? Oh yeah, you used to an alcoholic failure and lounged around with other denizens, wasting away day after day and providing nothing for society. Then one drunken night, you knocked up that cunt, Clair on a one-night stand at the rap concert. Later you found out she was a BDSM mistress and an even lazier piece of shit than you. You would cut her out of her life, but if you did, you know you’d never win custody of your daughter, and you could never let that bitch ruin your precious little girl. At least after you realized you were going to be a father, you started going to AA meetings and went back to school. Now seven years later, you have established some semblance of social value along with an ungodly amount of debt.
As you leave the house to head to the hospital, the idea passes through your mind to bar the doors and burn the house down. You’d get rid of Clair and pick up the insurance money in one fell swoop. But is it worth the risk? Shit, you can’t fathom to think of your baby girl growing up without her daddy.
*3 Burn that motherfucker to the ground with a vengeance.
*2 Drive to the hospital, your little girl needs you.
