ive days in a damp

hey wanted information I didn't have, confessions

was a constant, high-pitched hum in the small room. On the third day, on

concrete wall with

him, he didn't respond. He just stared at the wall. The doctors would later te

room opened. Julian stood there, dressed in an expens

ce was smooth, practiced. "It was polit

his new, heavily secured estate in Washington D.C. It was beautifu

s hid

f a powerful corporate lobbyist. Their wedding was on the cover of every magazine. He

est therapists. I clung to the hope that they could help

s a