The Cost of Their Lies

the bakery, to buy that car. A 1968 Ford Mustang, cherry red

t a second thought. She was my best friend, my c

like she planned to now. On the way back, on a dark

retired teacher whose car had b

she must have fel

iend," didn't call the cops.

llet sometime before – and planted it in the Mustang's glove compart

later that I had been driving. That I ha

My two closest peopl

d out by their calculated lies

for a trial. He was a local biker, connected, with a

They didn't want money, no

p, endless. They left me on the side of the highway, broken. T

er even recover

efore the blood, before the

felt like I was still there, the p

nt confusion. I looked at Mike, his brow furro

inside me was a living

et away with it