[ Her feathers impeccable that it wither; innocence that were long forgotten dither... ]
To dread most what could had happened put one anxious. A pit, where thoughts would be in shambles, crumbling to the extent that the brink of what if’s bottled up leading to nowhere. That’s what Rio felt that night. Her palms clammy, her head would continuously whipped across the phone lying across the table right outside her dresser. She fear that Malcolm would know about what happened, the robbery and the death of one of the thieves. Just the mere thought churned her insides. It wasn’t guilt, but something more closer to that word. Rio fear that she would be a primary suspect presumably as she assumed, because of the sudden visit of those two men on her address. But that’s least of her concern as of
