9 <2> THE UNTIMELY DEMISE OF RAY PLOTE Later that night after the dishes were washed and the garbage taken out, Lucy and the Beck's natural daughter retired to their shared bedroom. My foster mom works there as a second job. She had asked to borrow his pencil out of dire necessity. I hope we may never find her again. She was faint from hunger, her head spinning into dizziness, the blood madness readying for battle. She could still smell the now familiar scent of him on the girl's body in the makeshift grave. Creative work appeals to me wonderfully. “She’s been up to no good, Sheila.
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