Two hundred and ten. The number alternated with the pain in her mind, almost as important. It would indicate the end of this. She no longer remembered...anything else, only the pain and the number. "Seventy eight." They switched again at 100, and when they did they gave the girl some water and poured more, salted, over her back. She was shivering in the cold now, not fully conscious but conscious enough to feel the shock of cold water. Her eyes were both glassed over and desperately appealing.. Even today, when I shall be 19 next week, and she turns 40 early next year, she has the looks and a figure to die for. Later, my Mom worked in the finance department of the club she earlier danced at. Occasionally I too accompanied her. And it was ten days before my thirteenth birthday that I met Mark, at Mom’s club. He was tall, had curly dark brown hair with blue eyes and a crooked, self-deprecating smile... he always smelled clean, with the hint of some expensive perfume on him. And his. More

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