Here, held so tight, she is able to let go. She is able to not be as strong as she always is. She is able to cry without having to worry. Without havi...g to think. Just to feel. It’s times like this she feels broken. It’s times like this that she feels like her body is dirty. Tarnished. Ruined. It’s times like these that all she can see on her body are his handprints, forever burned into her flesh. It pains me to see her like this. None of it’s true, but I can’t make her see that. I can’t make. “I don’t really know what to do.” I really didn’t know what to do either, but I decided I had to start somewhere so I slowly pulled her shirt up over her head. She wasn’t wearing a bra. Of course she wasn’t. I wouldn’t have generated a bra, because I was always afraid of not being able to unsnap one if the situation ever presented itself. I took her breasts in my hand. They were beautiful. The were about a c-cup and very firm. Her nipples were a beautiful dark tan, about 3 shades darker than. More

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