Midway Through My Vasectomy, the Surgeon Said One Sentence That Told Me Something Was Very Wrong. – The Archivist

arriving before the ambulance, pulling Vanessa – barely scratched – from the passenger side.

Him looking at me, pinned behind the wheel, blood in my eyes, the car groaning as it slipped further toward the canyon. Looking at me, calculating the risk, and stepping back. Choosing the heir over the spare.

“We mourned you,” Marcus spat, face inches from mine.continue reading …