Chapter Eight

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"I am in pain to see this go,

But we were putting a hole in our hearts

With a poison arrow.

It was deranged, the way we'd roll,

You know that everything around was like a little bitty town,

We were the old tornado.

Try to get out, but we just keep stickin' around-

Cuz it was a very good bad thing we found.

Try to get out, but we still stay stuck on the ground, layin' down,

Cuz it was a very good bad thing we found.

Stay another day, stay another night,

I've got some cigarettes, I've got some stuff to try.

We'll make sick silhouettes (sick, sick silhouettes),

We'll make our mamas cry.

We'll play Russian roulette (play Russian roulette)

We'll play it till we die, die, die, d-die, d-d-die, die,

You and I'm

Gonna kill ya, yeah,

You're gonna kill me,

Leave a little note, just a little bad poem,

Gonna say true love is just a good bad joke."

-Mother Mother, "Very Good Bad Thing"

The car roared up the interstate, blackness flying past the slick windowpanes as I sped through the night, my mind almost frantic with desperation. I still wore the rumpled clothing I'd been arrested in, but I didn't care. I hadn't planned to be let out anytime soon-had thought Richard would leave me to rot in there for months on end, always eager to teach me some lesson for my multitude of sins.

I'd sat up in surprise, scrubbing at my sleepy eyes and looking up at the officer standing over my bed in confusion.

"Oliver," she whispered gruffly. "You ready, or what?" She pulled at my thin blanket, trying to rouse me.

I stared at her, trying to figure out what the hell she meant.

"Ready... for what? Am I in trouble?" I slurred, my voice still thick with exhaustion.

I felt my bunkmate, Jeena, watching me in the darkness, not daring to breathe.

"Nah. You're out," the guard answered dismissively, straightening from her stooped position over my bunk and making an impatient gesture. "Pack your stuff in your canvas. I gotta make rounds right after you go."

"Out?" I squeaked, jolting upright in bed and smacking my forehead on the bunk above me. I slapped a palm over my stinging skin. "Owwww," I muttered, rubbing at it in frustration and trying to digest what I was hearing.


"Evan," I said in a gasp, flying off my bunk and hastily throwing my meager belongings into the sack provided for me when I'd been admitted. "Have to see-have to go-"

"Go get 'em, English," Jeena murmured, using her pet name for me. Her tones were hushed so as not to wake the other two girls in the cell with us. I was ushered to the outside of the cramped room, where I turned and looked back at her.

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