That’s kind of the point of living this way.”“Does the Queen usually get gangbanged? Because last night the president of the other chapter stop...ed everyone from fucking me because you weren’t there to ‘give permission’, apparently.”“Pitbull did that? Remind me to pay him a visit later. You can too if you want. I wouldn’t say ‘usually’, but I ain’t gonna say it hasn’t happened either, my Queen.”She decided to shut up. She didn’t want him thinking she wanted it, nor did she want him thinking. She prayed five times a day. When she was not praying, she read the Qu’ran. When she grew weary of reading, she thumbed her worry beads. After walking her son to the public school, she waited in the apartment, pacing and longing for him to return. She saw nothing beyond her son. Such was her passion. A twisted passion, a passion changed into a selfish obsession. She would never let her son die of heart failure or hepatitis. And when Mustafa failed to sit and take, like medicine, his nightly. More

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