“You did?” I ask. I still have no fucking idea what she’s talking about. Or even who she is.
This happens way too fucking often, if you ask me. I leave a trail of breadcrumbs and notes for myself throughout history.
Just call me fucking Gretel.
I sit up with a jolt, scaring the two EMTs who are riding in the ambulance with me. I tear at the cannula in my nose, glaring at them. “Take me to Tulane Emergency. There’s something there I need to speak to.”
I promptly pass out.
I sigh into the speaker as I walk aimlessly down the street, heading back into the Quarter. “Daddy, it wasn’t that bad…just, you know, a little drowning.”
Read More.So, yeah, I’m gonna let you in on a secret. The last time I checked, I’ve been drowned eight times, burned at the stake twice, beaten, stoned, shoved off a cliff, stabbed, even flayed alive once. But each time, my dogged regeneration kicks in and keeps me alive. I have never been pushed over the edge to wherever we go when we die.
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