Here I was hoping that the news last night had been a dream—some kind of horrible, drunken nightmare.
At least I’m safe with David. That much I’m sure of. I just. Thomas. How the fuck—WHY the fuck would he do this to us—no. No, calm down, Russ.
…he didn’t name names.
But it can’t be long before this turns into one massive witch-hunt. I think I should talk to David about just…staying in New York.
I don’t want to go back to Westfield knowing…
that everyone.
KNOWS.
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