A loose glob of blood dangles from my nose. There’s mold on the back half of the Wonder Bread next to the toaster. A dog pisses in the corner. Dry knuckles pythoned around a hand gun. The teeth of the missing girl already added as pendants on one of my necklaces. The men in the room wide eyed and mangy, as adolescent hyena’s. They’ve managed to trap the Lion, whose name is known throughout this dark trailer park. The microwave beep startles the men. The one with the missing eye lid grabs the hot bowl barehanded and sets it on the table. Skin wrapped so tight around his knuckles, they look like the bones could rip out as Wolverine. The chicken seasoning finds its way into the ramen and is slid over to me.