Chapt3r 0n3
I HIT THE HEELS of my hands on the steering wheel till they were red and swollen. It didn’t do much to make the car work, but at least it helped me release some of my frustration and anger. I hated driving home. I loved my parents, and gods knew I loved my brother, but having to go there to spend time with them was always a chore. Hours, or worse, days, of pretending I was a good son and brother, when I was nothing but a dirty little boy who should be disinherited.
I sighed and pushed open my door, taking long steps to the front of the car to look under the hood. Of course I had no idea what was wrong, but it didn’t hurt to look, did it? Maybe I’d find a nice little card in there, telling me to yank a cable or screw something tighter, and then the car would f*****g work. No c
