Dear Fury,
I get it, okay.
You didn’t sign up to become a fill-in faither, uncle, biker dad, or whatever it is you want to call yourself.
But the hard truth is, you don’t have a choice.
I don’t want to have to be the one to point out that you can’t send your niece to school with no food.
Have you met kids?
They eat a lot.
I’m trying really hard not to get involved, trying not to let her sweet little voice sway me into calling you and telling you that I don’t like how you’re handling things.
But it’s really hard.
Because dammit, she’s a good kid and I can’t sit back and let you send her to school with no socks on for a single second longer.
Seriously. No socks?
And if you turn your back on me when I’m talking to you one more time…
I can’t get involved with people like you.
Not when I’m hiding my own demons.
God, if he found out that my eyes watch you leave my classroom every day and I wonder how it would feel to be beneath you…
I can’t.
I won’t.
He’d kill me.
He would bury me six feet under, and I know it.
But you’re making it really hard for me when I’m constantly having to chase you.
So, if you could do me a solid, and just take good care of your niece, then I won’t have to talk to you again.
Please and thanks,
Alexis Parker.


Prisoners of Purgatory, #5

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