Doug Shivley stepped onto the porch of the duplex and keyed in the front door. His dad was on a long haul for the bottling company, and he did not have to worry about his mom, who’d left them three years ago. He eased off his ball cap and leaned forward into the front hall mirror to check his forehead. He should have used a gun, but he had no way of knowing she was a he and a fighter…. or at least a kind of a he.
He swayed. Maybe he was drunk. Suddenly losing strength, he headed for the bathroom, grabbed a towel and climbed into the tub. He didn’t want to have to explain blood to his dad. He would have to beg off summer session finals and lie low. Bitch! He could not go to the Emergency Room for treatment due to fear of being collared. He smiled grimly. The bitch can’t go to the ER, either! Damn conniving bitch man!
2 b continued?