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The idea of oblivion, forgetting all the pain, had been addictive to her, so she’d agreed to Miller’s not-at-all-sexual terms

And they’d becorace the planet He treated her like shit, beat her black and blue when the ht And she despised hiet her next hit

When he grew bored with her, he’d pick on me I can’t remember how many times my mom had watched dispassionately as lassy and lifeless as she inhaled whatever she was shts, when she’d crawl in bed withfrom withdrawal tremors, she’d tell me about the other baby, her voice far away and wistful as she iood her life could’ve been if only her mechanic had lived

"I could’ve had a real son," she would say "One I could actually love"

And I’d always kind of hated that other boy, or envied hi I could be him instead offa about Pick’s past had changed all that though He was the right age to be that baby, but he had never been adopted by so around, I’d discovered he’d had a pretty sucky childhood, yanked fro one of his foster sisters get raped and basically having the worst luck wherever he went, landing at only the awful homes

I owed so much to Pick He’d let e for my band He’d let us have our premiere performance here and then return every Friday He’d let ht and install pretty much any sound system feature in the place I wanted

I had fans My drea true Because of him

It felt shitty for me to keep my story to myself after what I knew

Didn’t I owe it to hiht possibly knoho his mother had been?

Well, idiot me, I’d had a little too much to drink after a show one Friday, and I’d made the decision to clue hian I’d left hi

He hadn’tto bring it up So I let it go, hoping ined that I’d called hile in e, and he hadn’t forgotten about it at all