The thirst is unbearable, the flakingwax a foul taste and unwanted reminder of the day. She is home. Pushing herselfup against the bars, she spreads h...r legs before her, rubbing away the fatigue.She was wearing heels this time last week. She had her own skirt. She had alife. Remembering this was worse than remembering the pain. Worsethan experiencing it, in some twisted and inexplicable way. A way that mattered. With a sigh, Sinead rolls onto her sideand waits. Hours pass. **** He returned. Mom wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. "She's ready," she said, but then took my hand."Be gentle;she's never been with a man before." I nodded and went into the bedroom. The blinds were drawn and it took a few moments before my eyes adjusted to the dim light once Mom shut the door and cut off the light from the hallway. Angela was d****d face down on the edge of the bed. She still wore the tank top shirt and had removed her shorts. I stepped round behind her and quietly admired her. More

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