There was a body buried somewhere in this town, but I didn't know whose it was. All I remembered was the sun shining in my eyes, the feel of the uneven street beneath us as we drove toward school, and the way it felt when my father slammed his foot on the breaks, seconds too late. The seatbelt cut into my collarbone and the smell of the burning tires made me gag. But it was the sound above the screeching tires, the thwack and squelch of mushy flesh and brittle bone colliding with the car's bumper, that still kept me up at night, years later.
YOU ARE READING
Creatures Of Habit
Teen FictionJames has a secret and her name is Margot. Nobody knows they're friends and nobody can find out. He doesn't want to put his popularity at risk by being associated to her and she doesn't want anyone to talk about them like they know. Because they don...