CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED and SIXTY-ONE
Sunday afternoon –4:25 P.M.
Dressed in all black including a black balaclava, Colin Hargreaves sat down in a chair across from Katy’s old Daddy’s, Trevor’s father. Dangling from a cord, a 60 watt incandescent lit the pitch back room. Trevor’s father whimpered at the sound of Colin sitting down. His ankles were tied to a wooden chair. His hands were handcuffed behind him. He was terrified, but otherwise unharmed.
“Hello scumbag,” Colin growled.
Denver Cereal continues on Monday…