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Wil je zeker zijn dat je cadeautjes op tijd onder de kerstboom liggen? Onze winkels ontvangen jou met open armen. Nu met extra openingsuren op zondag!

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Gratis thuislevering in België vanaf € 30
Ruim aanbod met 7 miljoen producten

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Omschrijving

Shae's life was routine and boring. She went to work, went home, saved her money. After being attacked and disfigured in an alley she was trying to be better. She tried to stop drinking, she stayed away from drugs. She went to work, went home, saved her pennies when she could. These days she carried around her hate, her fear, in the form of a scar across her face....Then along came Finn, offering her a job making a new breed of pornography. Soon she has a dead skinhead haunting her house, crashing on her sofa, listening to her records. Shae realizes Finn isn't who she thought he was. She isn't who she thought she was....

A novella exploring deceptive appearances

On the edge of the city, propped beside a wide brown river, there was dancing and drinking most nights. On a good night, there was blood. Fights between strangers, friends, and lovers, it didn't matter. The glassy eyes of junkies, punks, and filthy youth stood by passively to watch for free. This site did not disturb Shae in the least. She'd been hanging out at The Cellar since she was fourteen. On this sultry night she'd brought Finn, and couldn't tell how he felt about it. Whether he was horrified, fascinated, or indifferent to the scum rolling down the street.

The shithole club, the street outside, the alleyways, this entire part of the city was rough and poor. Half industrial and bleeding to projects, then burnt-out houses. Stray packs of dogs and skeletal cars buried in wild yards of poison ivy. She usually felt at ease here among these people. Her people. Dropouts, runaways, addicts and pushers, street artists, the occasional casual prostitute, if need be. But tonight she felt uncomfortable because she had brought Finn and he wasn't any of those things.