Framed By My Son: The Survivor's Story

e hit my nostrils, a ghost fro

edge of a cliff, from the c

e wealthy families twisted in rage above me,

of the Montana wilderness lodge, the heat

out of control!

th what sounded like pan

the door, his face

time, I

nce of fear, a flick

Excit

previous life when he handed over tha

his panicked cry had

hns, the head ran

nds and a shovel, and led every single one of the two doze

save

I th

s grim face and the smol

entilation had

ere al

re gun and accel

rding was the final

geezers," my voice, twisted into something mons

n't wait for a trial. They cornered me on a prec

heart of the infern

bunker was

son was

Brian, the lodge manager, was t

leb' s voice was sharper now,

inguisher, I picked up a can of

a stack of dry firewoo

e far end of the lodge, the wind c

like feeding a