Chapter 3
 . When we got in, I figured out the puke store was far better than this place. Even though it wasn't painted pink, it smelled like cotton candy and girls scouts. Damian and I were ready to go out like real fast. But some hobos called us for something called therapy.

              I don't know the meaning of therapy!!!!!

                  I was curious, so I followed. After a few minutes, I was thinking about the trap I had walked right into. Who knew therapy was just about some stranger asking about your personal life? The name of the stranger, sorry I mean "therapist", was apparently Madame. And she knew just any trick to make you spill the beans.

                     It was so annoying, and we were trapped there...