Frankie
I lay on the bed beside Clayton with my cheek on his chest. I don’t care if that doctor gets mad. I trace his bare skin with my finger and listen to him sigh. “What happened?” I ask him.
“What happened?” He repeats in his drugged-up stupor.
“Yeah, do you remember the accident at all?” I ask Clayton.
The smell of rancid garbage reaches my nostrils, and I look up just as Roscoe f*****g Graves stops in the doorway. “I remember,” He says.
Hazel is rabid in my head as we let out a loud growl. “Hi, Roscoe,” Clayton waves.
“You motherfucker!” I yell and lunge at Roscoe. He sidesteps me, and I turn to lunge at him again, but he grabs my arm and slams me against the wall in the blink of an eye. I growl again as he presses himself to me. “Let me go, you murderer!” I shout.
“I am no mu
