The confession of a deranged man.
The last messages to her mom.
I know when my husband is cheating on me. It’s...
The rollercoaster ride that the son would never forget.
She was the kind of kid who stuck out in the crowd with her long red hair, ghostly pale skin and coke bottle glasses.
I don't know when you're going to read this, but I can tell you when it started: I was out for a walk alone in the woods when the entity came for me. It was beyond a blur.
His Tinder profile said he was 45, but he looked to be in his early thirties at most.
For the last couple years, I’ve comforted myself by saying I’m in my “early 70s,” but math is simple and unforgiving.