Winters in Northern Montana aren’t forgiving. That’s where I live with my family. Our house sits on a large hill nestled in a lush sea of trees overlooking a small pond. I hate my house.
By Jordan Larson3 years ago in Fiction
My eyes open but it’s dark, too dark to make anything out. My head throbs as I lay on the cold, damp concrete floor. Confusion sets in as my thoughts scream inside my head.