{XXIII}



LANGUAGE FAILED LARS. GUARDED BY two lions of the same stone. The words were most likely trapped inside. The words were the true prisoners. Caged lions exploding from the burning trucks. Handcuffed writers scribbling behind their backs.

I had to find a better way off the roof. The door leading back to the reading room was jammed. I knew exactly who was on the other side by the sound of her boots. I kicked the door a few times for good measure. She kicked back. The heavy door knocked the wind out of me.

“You’re always wearing other people’s clothes.” Sgt. Bethany Powers swooped down on me, rolling me back towards the ledge facing 5th Avenue.

“I guess I am.” I backpedaled until I could feel the open air behind me.

“It doesn’t have to be this way. Quit while you’re behind. Farrow…” Balls in her palm, she slowly squeezed. Any hesitation would lead me to an early end. More than a couple stories to the ground. The second set of screams let me know I was airborne. I saw the redhead’s emotionless face study my fall.


“I hate you.”

“You love me.”

“Maybe.”



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