Brandy's Shame: Part One
- Hamlin
- Jul 10
- 4 min read
Updated: Jul 12
Midnight is for thieves, sluts, and the ambitious. Brandy Turner wasn’t sure which she was—maybe all three, judging by her reflection in the hallway mirror as she eased herself down the stairs, breath held. The house was silent except for the occasional snort from Carl’s bedroom, each one a warning shot through the dark. Every footstep sent a ping through her nerves. At the base of the stairs, she paused, clutching her phone and fixing the hem of her dress—a black number so tight it threatened to give her an aneurysm. Mom was working another double at the hospital, and the only obstacle between Brandy and a night of underage clubbing was a man whose body mass rivaled a parade float.
