"I could escape from them in here."The twin bed was in the same place as before I had moved out eight months ago. Nothing else was.One corner was full...of whatever shit there was no other place for, all piled up, spilling onto the floor. The dresser was covered in books, magazines, laundry and who-knows-what. Along the wall there was a long table covered in computer parts, electronic gizmos, wires and whatever else it was my dad was playing with these days.The old guy had suddenly become. "Not since I was twelve, and our gardener caught me out in the potting shed. He said what he did was punishing me. It hurt, too. Later that summer, two of my friends, two boys a little older than I was, we played games, fascinated with each other's bodies, and they put their things in me, their members, oh ten or twelve times I think, maybe more. It was exciting. I still dream about them. But they were small, the size of your little finger perhaps." And now, how old are you?" I'll be eighteen. More

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