Marked
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I was surrounded. I couldn't run. I couldn't scream. I was frozen. I backed up against the wall. The old, rusty motel wall covered in an off white paint with mold slowly creeping up the bottom of it. This was it. I was going to be marked... By him.
جميع الحقوق محفوظة
انضم إلى أكبر مجتمع لرواية القصص في العالماحصل على توصيات قصص مخصّصة، احفظ قصصك المفضلة في مكتبتك، وقم بالتعليق والتصويت لتنمية مجتمعك.
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