Published in [PANK]
“They were in this sad little motel on the edge of Vidalia, and it stank of crack and weed and fried food, everything smothered in the smell. Maggie knelt like a girl praying, her stomach pressed up against the sharp edge of the tub, water sloshing everywhere. Bouie’s fat fingers were rough against her skull. He pushed her head into the tub again and again, each time shifting his palm around.”
