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Back Atlanta Burns Save as PDF
Chapters (50)
  1. Title Page
  2. Copyright Page
  3. Dedication Page
  4. CONTENTS
  5. PART ONE: SHOTGUN GRAVY
  6. Sometimes she wakes…
  7. CHAPTER ONE
  8. CHAPTER TWO
  9. CHAPTER THREE
  10. CHAPTER FOUR
  11. CHAPTER FIVE
  12. CHAPTER SIX
  13. CHAPTER SEVEN
  14. CHAPTER EIGHT
  15. CHAPTER NINE
  16. CHAPTER TEN
  17. CHAPTER ELEVEN
  18. PART TWO: BAIT DOG
  19. CHAPTER TWELVE
  20. CHAPTER THIRTEEN
  21. CHAPTER FOURTEEN
  22. CHAPTER FIFTEEN
  23. CHAPTER SIXTEEN
  24. CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
  25. CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
  26. CHAPTER NINETEEN
  27. CHAPTER TWENTY
  28. PART THREE: THE FARM
  29. CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
  30. CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
  31. CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
  32. CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
  33. CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
  34. CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
  35. CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
  36. CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
  37. PART FOUR: KISSING FIRE
  38. CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
  39. CHAPTER THIRTY
  40. CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
  41. CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
  42. CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
  43. PART FIVE: BAIT GIRL
  44. CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
  45. CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
  46. CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
  47. CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
  48. EPILOGUE: THE MESSAGE
  49. ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
  50. ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Funny thing is, she was going to apologize to her mother. That was the talk she hoped to have. She wanted to say, “Mama, I’m sorry, but the reason the mortgage bill is due is because I pissed off a very powerful man who has ties to the bank and I’m going to try to help make this right and I got a job and it’ll help pay a couple months and I’m sorry again.”

But it didn’t go like that.

It never goes like that.

Arlene stepped in it. Opened her mouth, stuck her pink-painted toenails all up in there. Wiggled ’em good, too. And now all Atlanta can think about is how mad she is at her mother and how this is actually Arlene’s fault—it was Arlene who didn’t pay the mortgage, which opened the door just wide enough for the rats to come creeping in. It was Arlene who had a bad boyfriend, a boyfriend who saw Atlanta as dessert under glass, a young girl who surely didn’t mean those words she kept saying over and over again—no, don’t, stop—and who cried so hard not because she was sad but because she was overwhelmed by the strong emotion of it all.

Again that gunpowder stink. The shotgun’s in the closet, but Atlanta can feel it there, can almost see it through the wall like she’s got fucking X-ray vision or something. She hears a man screaming. Here, in this room, in her bedroom. But not now. Then.

The blast of a gun and blood on the sheets.

Atlanta rubs her eyes.

With an angry, darting hand she snatches the folder, opens it again. Flashes of raw skin, wounds, blood. She slams the folder shut again. It’s like a horrible drug, an ugly hit straight to her soul—a car-battery jump, crass but effective. It focuses her, lets her put Arlene and the house out of her mind.

It’s then that Atlanta starts to put together a plan.

Or, at least, the first step of one.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

The vet’s office smells like animal. All kinds of animal, given that this is a farm vet. Horse musk and dog shit and cat piss and rabbit fear. A big, poofy Persian cat that looks like Ron Swanson stalks the counter. Back and forth, back and forth, occasionally pausing to survey his leonine domain. Then back to pacing. His domain isn’t much to look at. The waiting room has a floor of gray tiles, some cracked. The walls are white popcorn. Ceiling, too. Everything cast in a swimmy, fluorescent glow, lights occasionally buzzing and snapping like a bug zapper.

The woman behind the counter is a dainty thing with knuckle-bones where her cheekbones should be; they bulge out like sharp corners. She says, for the second time, “I’m sorry, but the doctor’s with a patient.”