Chapter 57 57. It's Not Real

It was a putrid, rotten, nauseating smell.

Edmund was frozen, brown sludge dripping down his face, his shirt, pooling at his feet. Maya leaned in the doorway with a nose mask, gloves, and an empty blender held like a murder weapon.

I burst out laughing. Couldn't help it.

"What the hell!" Edmund s...

Login and Continue Reading