It must have been the hormones from her pregnancy, or her desperation to feel something other than fear or pain. We always went there after school to do homework and, you know, make out. “What’s his name?” she asked, eager to hear stories from the real world and not this sick reality they were stuck in now. This just fucking sucks!”
“That’s an understatement,” Dasha gave a sad laugh. She was wearing a black hoodie and purple skinny jeans. “Guys, um,” she whispered, “I’m on the pill.” Dasha and Morgan both gave her blank stares, clearly confused as to why a lesbian would need birth control. He’d given them all haircuts after their hair got too long and stringy to brush. Unexpectedly, Jenna began kissing Dasha’s neck. “Me and Hannah were in the cemetery. Her name was Jenna, and she was sixteen. Read 32760 times |
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