She’d be a notch on whatever this sicko notched to keep count of his tally of bodies. ‘I’m sorry, Tina,’ Michelle whispered, feeling the girl ...linch. ‘I feel so bad about…’ ‘Forget it,’ Tina said. ‘I hurt you, too, last night.’ She could still hear his voice in her ear. ‘Fuck her with your fingers, rip open that pretty little cherry. I want to hear her scream.’ She might have been gentler with Michelle, but he’d grabbed her ass, pushing in deep, his hip bones digging into her ass cheeks. ‘Hurt. If you remember that old Johnny Cash song, A Boy Named Sioux you'll have some idea of what I'm talking about.I never went to college, never learned how to drive a car let alone owned one, never played football in high school, never gave my slightly less than five inch dick a second thought, and never worried much about what other people thought or said about me. I was and remain my own person; Jack Kerouac could have written a book about me. I was a physical clone of my dad: five-seven, 148. More

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