You Think I Led Him On? For

I Grew Up Writing About The Paranormal, And I Blame Too Many Saturday Mornings Watching Scooby Doo.

No. Harsh Truth Was Better Than Comfortable Lies. It Had To Be.

Maybe My Expectations For Honesty Are Too High.

I Remember Hearing Myself Start To Whimper, A Five-year-old, Crouched By The Side Of The Road, Staring Into My Father's Eyes, Whimpering Because It Was So Dark And There Was No One Coming To Help, Whimpering Because My Mother Was Back In The Crushed Car, Not Moving, And My Father Was Lying Here In The Dirt, Not Answering Me, Not Holding Me, Not Comforting Me, Not Helping My Mother Get Out Of The Car, And There Was Blood, So Much Blood, And Broken Glass Everywhere, And It Was So Dark And So Cold And No One Was Coming To Help.

Tell Me When You Want To Pick It Up Again." "tell Me When Satan Starts A Snowball Fight." "i'll Do That. Lunch?