“Dad, are you OK?” I said to him, as I was seriously concerned about him.
“I am fine, I just need to figure out where that b***h went and get her back. I have called 20 packs in a 300-mile vicinity, and no one has seen or heard of her. I want to get both of them back, but I have to get Katrina back. I made a promise that she would be dying by my hand. I can put her in the cells and keep the key on my person if I need to, but once I get her back, she will never be leaving here again” my dad said, and he had a wild look about him. I step back because of the anger he is putting out. How has he gotten in such bad shape when she hasn’t been gone a whole day? Was it because she was there, and available to be hurt whenever he got angry? She was a punching bag for him, and he couldn’t let her go
