"Burn Cards" excerpt by Christopher Irvin in My Bookish Ways

The sky has grown dark by the time he dumps me inside the trunk of the sedan. A rough interior lining scrapes against the exposed skin of my shoulders and arms, leaving bloodless scratches crisscrossing a yellowing bruise. He strains to fit me inside, breathing deep with each movement, enveloping me in a warm cloud of cheap bourbon and blood that tastes like sour vitamins. Read Chapter 1 here.