xxxviii. Touch
Laurie. Mallory. Ainsley. Like a little boy playing with his sister's dolls, he broke them. All of them. And himself in the process. He sits on the stoop of his apartment building, breathing in the chilled December air, allowing it to caress his throat. The stars sparkle above him.
They all run away from you.
It all started with his father. And now he can't get them to stop running. He holds the beer bottle by its neck, and drinks. He stole bits and pieces of them until they all left. And no amount of alcohol can make him forget.