titania86

Dearest Johnny, They have found a way to break me, rape a fifty-six year old bag of bones. There is no worse and don't believe otherwise. The attendants do it, others do it. Not every day, not every week, maybe not even every month, but they do it. Someone I don't know always comes when it's dark, late. I've learned not to scream. Screaming gave me hope, and unanswered hope is shattered hope. Think of your Haitian. It is far saner to choose rape than shattered hope, so I submit and I drift. I let caprice and a certain degree of free association take me away. Sometimes I'm still away long after it's done. After he's gone, the stranger