Do You Believe In Faith_Affluenza_A Crushing Profit_Lilly Joy
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Do You Believe In Faith
I wake in this apartment and I wonder is this where I’m meant to be? In any case, I need to get ready for that interview at 10am but it's 8am so I have time. I’ll just take another five minutes and sleep a bit more.Beep! Beep! Beeeep!!I hit the button on my alarm and look at the clock groggily. 9:42am, okay I can get a bit more sleep… Wait, wait… Slowly I raised my head again and checked the clock. 9:43am… jumping out of bed I freshen up and get dressed. Damn, damn, damn… I’m going to be late, damn it. I need to call them and explain. As I head down the road, I notice a car accident. Great! I ...
Affluenza
Content Warning: References of death and substance abuse, swearing.I’ve never been in a courtroom before. It doesn’t look like the ones in those movies or shows. Just regular old office lights, the long tube ones. The room is kind of bland, no windows or anything. It’s just like a room where you have meetings and stuff. Other than that, it’s kind of empty. The only thing that looks like the movies is where the judge sits. I wonder if he’ll have that black gown-thing on and one of those old-timey white wigs. The security guard is a fatso. I could outrun ‘im. There’s a girl on a typewriter, but ...
A Crushing Profit
Watching Farrah’s glossy burgundy talons curl around the handle of the china cup holding her low-fat latte, Bridgette felt as if making a deal with the devil. Around them, patrons clad in designer duds lounged at chandelier-sized marble-topped tables, chatting and sipping, oblivious. In other circumstances, Bridgette would’ve enjoyed the chance to immerse herself in a world not at all like her own (“Of course I’ll be footing the bill,” Farrah had said on the phone. “I know you can’t afford to drop $5、75 on a drink.”). But the mess she’d gotten herself—and, more importantly, her daughte...
Lilly Joy
Chapter OneThin as a twig, Maywood Sloper slouched against the only window in the room. Quiet and sorrowful, he stared through the filthy glass at the train tracks below, then turned and squinted at me. A pair of torn and muddied, black lace panties draped the clipboard in his hand. “I’ve lost her.” He coughed deep in his chest, rasped, and swallowed. A rivulet ran down his soiled cheek, “This time, I fear it’s for good.”“Don’t get so damned dramatic,” I said. “There’s nothing to get riled about. You don’t even know those www.onedoor.ccare hers.” Maywood shook h...