Page 19 (1/2)

When I see her cell phone peeking out of the top of the bag, I don’t stop to ponder that I’m about to commit the second crime of my life I don’t worry about the stain upon my record or my soul It’s too late for that

Murder is hard to top, after all

So I pull the phone fro I don’t let myself run I just move smoothly away

Maybe I should find a hotel or a youth hostel, some place where I can eat some food and take a shower and think I know I need to think But thinking has never done anything but get me into trouble

So I dart into a dark and twisty side street There’s a dim doorway, and that’s where I stand, hidden in shadow as I dial and wait for the voice at the other end of the line

I don’t want to hear it

And I don’t knohat I’ll do if I don’t

I just stand, shaking, listening until I hear: "Hello"

"It’s me," I blurt Even my whispers are too loud in the silence I put my hand over my mouth and the phone "No Don’t say my name," I say "I’m … I’m in trouble I don’t knoho to trust anymore"

My voice cracks, and maybe I’d even cry if I still had tears But I don’t So I just cruainst the heavy wooden door until I reach the dirty stoop I pull ainst them, the phone still pressed to my ear like a lifeline to another world

"I don’t knoho to trust I don’t … I need help" Probably the hardest three words in the English language, so for good ain "I need help Will you--"