" "Mr. I want to put myself into your hands. He met her eyes with his fiery black gaze. . No amount of scrubbing could remove the stains, the blood of an unknown man she had stolen from the scene of a car accident, a stupid drunk with no license who had wrapped his Chevy truck around a very large oak tree. Her sensitive ears could hear her foster mother snoring in front of the television. She’ll have to wait for dinner,” he said, uncomfortably. Living, he knew that he would never send that letter. The sky beyond was a surreal color of pink that reminded her of the windows she had once been entranced by at the castle chapel, their leaden lines depicting old religious stories and sufferings.
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