The zipper was in the front, and sometimes it would open enough so I could see Mom’s hand moving under her white cotton underwear.The following week...on Tuesday night, Mom did something a little different. She was wearing slack and unzipped them as usual but pushed them and her underwear halfway down her thighs. We had a stag film running, but I’ll be damned if I remember what it was, I had a raging hard-on pushing the front of my pajamas out. There was no way my mother could mistake the. I stared back into them, trying desperately to remember that he loved me and he still wanted to marry me even though he knew I wasn’t of his time. He still loved me. Unconditional love. He was trying to get me out of here so I wasn’t going to be killed. But right that moment, with his eyes as cold as a winter sky, it was hard to remember. It was cold hate shinning in his eyes, and for the briefest of moments, I thought it was directed at me. That cold, hard hate. But something poked through, a. More

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