My name is Abram, and I’m from a rural town in Montana by the name of Millsbe. A quiet farming town, I always had room to move about with my friends. The parlor would always welcome us, and we spent our evenings roaming the field. I’ve always had fond memories of my hometown. I had loved my family and friends, and most of my memories of the town bear such emotions. But something has edged its way into my mind. A past event that horrifies me when I think of it. “Yeah, yeah,” I said. “How do you know this place, anyway? Your pappy brings you here?” I was heaving from the jog.