My world is on fire, and I'm obsessed with the girl who lit the match. Bloodied knuckles and a lifeless body at my feet confirm it: Penny is my demise. My gentlemanly facade is nothing but a memory. My sins are seeping through my shirt like ink. I tried to leave her. Couldn't do it. I tried to snuff the life out of her. Couldn't do that, either. So we'll slow dance in the flames until I'm nothing but ash and embers. I'll only rise like a phoenix when she's gone. The problem is, I'd never let her go. No, she'd have to run far, far, away to escape me. And maybe she will if I just told her the truth: I own the Sinners Anonymous Hotline. And I've listened to every call she's ever made.