I couldn’t quite figure out if Bryant was despicable or just pitiful. “So, you’re

worried that the truth about his mother’s death might set him off again?”

“Yeah.” Gary nodded, “The psychiatrist suggested we take it slow and wait

until Mr. Bryant’s feeling a bit better.”

“Okay.” My response was flat, devoid of any emotion.

I’d rather not deal with the Ferguson family’s drama anymore if it weren’t for

Timothy’s dying wish. But then, getting home and thinking about Bryant’s

plight stirred a faint sense of pity in me. That quickly evaporated, however, the

moment I remembered how he yelled at me in the hospital room. That scant

pity vanished without a trace.

I suddenly found myself loathing my inability to be more decisive, hating that I

couldn’t plan things better.

While I was lying on the couch, zoning out in sheer boredom, Christine

suddenly popped by.

the door. “Why didn’t you just use

to walk in on something I shouldn’t see.” Christine sauntered

swaying, kicked off her heels, and

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at me. “Why the

snake at its head today.” I tossed her a

at myself.

startled the snake instead.”

quite the poet today.” Christine unscrewed the bottle,

I’m lost.

mother, Teresa, woke up today.” I

death and was

shipped off.”

dice.” I shared the

little bitch stays, and now,

and sipped her juice. “But Bryant

curious. “Why

has he ever

on a rant about Margaret’s family tree by

was oddly

at her and saw her eyes were

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