I think of the sharp sensations of my own bones cracking, splintering, as something or someone bends them beyond what they can stand. I relish the scr...aming heat radiating from my hands as they’re plunged into a vat of boiling oil, cooking flesh that still lives. I shudder to the singing pain in my arms and legs, sometimes my stomach, as a sharp blade descends over and over, slicing and stabbing until the red of blood is flowing freely. All of these emotions, these visions build one on top of. No one paid me much attention even though they knew me as the babysitter. I had sat for most of them and had fucked some of their husbands. It always made me smile when I thought about how proud they were over the money their husbands made and the things they bought. If only they knew my seventeen-year-old pussy was what their husbands wanted. “Did you hear about what happened to the Hawthorn’s?” said a voice in the next aisle. I stopped in my tracks and pricked my ears. The woman was talking. More

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