The hands that built my cage were the same ones that bathed me. Sometimes, the most dangerous monsters are the ones tucking you in at night.
The rain drumming against the roof of the church felt like a fitting soundtrack for the heaviest day of my life. Aunt Monica was gone. The woman who had been …
The hands that built my cage were the same ones that bathed me. Sometimes, the most dangerous monsters are the ones tucking you in at night. Read More