“Morning Brenda!” I sing-song like a morning person with normal levels of serotonin.
There is no generational wealth in my cursed bloodlines, but my father was kind enough to pass along some addiction genes, eczema, a decade or so of trauma by way of emotional neglect, and a generous helping of physical abuse, mostly when he was frustrated about not being able to get his personal needs met.
After a quick double tap for a vein, she quickly inserts the needle.
She’s fucking the Director of Pharmacy, aka the person in charge of securing the hospital’s medication. He’s incredibly homely and lonely.
Fuck, my drug dealer is about to give me a come-to-Jesus talk, and I don’t know how things have spiraled so quickly. Who am I kidding? Yeah, I do.
Desiree, thank you for a quick peek at your very funny novel. And thank you for trekking up here from Los Angeles. If you’d like us to post a bio or links, please send them via Dennis by clicking here.
