You want to know how I got her in my car. That’s always the question, isn’t it, the hook on which so many things turn. How did the bad girl get the good girl to come along? How did evil trump innocence?
I’m here to tell you it’s not that simple.
“Fact is,” I said, “I know you. You’re not the good girl you want everyone to believe you are. In fact, I think you’re smart enough that you don’t even believe it yourself. And God or Jehovah or Buddha or Justin Bieber or whichever deity you want to believe in has brought me here to show you that light.”
And in that moment I knew her fear. I could smell it across the room. I could taste it in my own nervous breath. And that brought me close to her. So close I could sense her past, feel her future.
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