Because her father was a wife beater. Because her father was a child molester. Because she’d shot him 15 years ago. The screen door slammed shut and...she jumped as if it was the shot she’d fired so long ago. It echoed in her mind and the smell of cordite burned in her nostrils. It had been his .45 that she had found hidden in the ratty folds of the his recliner and she remembered how her heart had pounded in her chest as she gingerly handled the silver gun, her dirty, bitten fingernails rubbing. There was something familiar about the stranger’s eyes, but she couldn’t see his face behind the mask. She wanted to slap at him, she wanted to punch him in the face, but she was afraid to fight him. Suddenly her attacker jumped up, grabbed Amy by the hips and flipped her onto her stomach. He pulled the tattered dress completely off Amy now. She knew what was coming, could feel his cock hardening against her thigh while he fingered her holes. The stranger grabbed her hips and pulled her onto. More

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