"Don't like thinking about how you sold her out to your asshole boss, a guy you knew was twisted and fucked up? Don't like thinking you could do that,...even to a stupid fucking slut like your daughter? That you could teach her how to be a whore?" Quiet, I'm thinking, shut UP!" he screamed again. George was snaking his truck down the late afternoon roads of outer Cleveland and his fists were clenching the steering wheel tightly. Images of his little girl, lying in her pretty pink bed so passively. At that time, the internet in the building where she lived, was having stability-issues, so when she got off the bus, she walked back a bit and turned down a narrow side-street. There was an old and very friendly second hand bookstore that she had visited on several occasions in the past. It was a very large shop, but is was not very often that there was many customers. Before one was allowed to enter the many back rooms, you had to leave coat and bags at the counter in the front room. And. More

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