Ji-a breathed shallowly through her nose as she and Jack hobbled through the door into their small apartment. Deep in the slums of Paradise, where no one would notice her. They were silent as they slipped through the doorframe together. Both of Jack’s arms hung limply, his shoulders dislocated. Ji-a limped, trying not to put weight on her left leg. Her right hand was held gingerly, trying not to let the broken bones twist and grind against each other. They couldn’t meet each other’s eyes. She was afraid of what she might see in Jack’s eyes. Humiliation. Shame. Rage. Defeat. The loss of hope.
Continue reading “Chapter 7: Bone of my Bones, Flesh of my Flesh”