I thought my days of violence were buried twenty years ago, until two little girls burst into the diner covered in tears, begging me to save their dying mother from a monster everyone else in town thought was a saint.
Part 1: I thought the darkest parts of my life were buried twenty years ago. I really believed I had finally outrun the ghosts of my past. But I was dead wrong. It was a quiet Tuesday afternoon at May’s Diner, just off Highway 23 in rural Ohio. The afternoon sun was filtering through the…
