During the whole time Coralie and I were sneaking around, taking photographs, holding onto each other fiercely in my bed, running as wild as we possibly could with the old bastard controlling her so doggedly, I only had occasion to face him and actually speak once. That seems strange to me now, but at the time I’d been relieved. Coralie had told me he was a hard ass, over protective, and I’d been willing to take her at her word and avoid him at all costs. “You never suspected that he was hurting her, though. That night she left town was the first time she ever said anything about it. I remember, man. I remember being shocked when you told me, too. She always hid it well.” Shane gives me a third beer. I’d sat around at home and tried to think things through after Coralie left, but I’d started to go a little crazy. I stopped by Willoughby’s, looking for an old friend to talk to, and we’d ended up going to Chase’s—the only dive bar in town that seems to have escaped the community’s ‘regeneration.’ Shane and I used to come here and get fucked up after my mom died.
