"Sort of like that, yes." said Brandy. "Except it isn't your hand."Bobby had a lightning image of his sister putting clay or plaster of Paris or somet...ing over his face. He'd seen a TV show where they did that to make masks for actors who had to wear an alien mask or something like that. They had to poke straws up the actor's nose so he could breathe during the process and it had looked distinctly uncomfortable. "I don't think so," he said."What do you mean?" asked Brandy, incredulous. He'd. He hit me again, giving me barely enough time to cover my face. “Frigid bitches like you need to fucking loosen up!” He shouted.“Stop it!” I screamed as he beat me to the ground, sending a searing pain through my jaw and nose. The thorns and twigs on the grass scratched against my creamy skin as he shoved me down into the mud. I was bewildered. His rugged breath was heavy as he leant over me, forcing the side of my face flat against the floor with his left hand while the right worked on undoing. More

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