from SALLY’S SUICIDE CHECKLIST
Returning home after having her stomach pumped was not
one of Sally Biddle’s favorite activities. The food in her refrigerator
would be growing mold, the toilet seat in her bathroom would be
freezing cold, and more often than not, dried blood would have to
be hand-washed from the hickory hardwood floor in the living room.
But here she was again, in the passenger seat of Adam Delgado’s
white Infiniti, with its tinted windows and new car scent, pulling up
to her empty duplex.
“If a dozen people are on the other side of the door waiting to
scream ‘Surprise,’ I won’t speak to you for six months,” she warned.
“I’d never let a dozen people see you looking like such hell,” he
assured her, clutching her arm to keep her from falling and breaking
some bone on the winding brick path. “You look like you just spent
two weeks at Buchenwald.”
Find out what happens next on Issuu.