Good! They still worked. I saw the face. Ronni. Pronounced "Ronnie". As in "Veronica". My seventeen year old next-door neighbor.Okay. Inventory. I was...hurting. Bad. Left leg. Left arm. Chest. Something warm running into my eyes. Things were NOT good.The flashing red lights and incessant whooping of a siren became pervasive. I heard voices. Running. Shouting. I tried to see what was going on and the world disappeared again.The next time I came back, I was in a room full of bright lights and very. It was his fantasy trip, after all."No? I think I can persuade you." His fingers stroked over the remnants of the evening gown. She quivered in anticipation of him ripping the rest of the dress off her. She was taken by surprise when he used the gloves to slap her across the face.She staggered back and fell to her knees. The pain throbbed fiercely in her bruised cheek. Each finger of the glove had left its own mark. She glared at him, hatred flaring in her eyes. She didn't have to act. The girl. More

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