The next day she asked him, ‘When are you going to ask me on a date, Jonathan Ames?’ He took the highway exit toward the small town she lived in, ... mostly Hispanic village with tiny, 1970’s era identical houses. He wondered sometimes what she made of the cultural divide between them, but it seemed to be as invisible to her as it was to him. Just then the tail-lights in front of him veered strangely and then turned completely over before spinning to one side, punctuated by a shower of sparks as. She screams and cries, twists but remains in position.Angry welts rise but all it does is make me thirst for more. More pain. Blood.I whip her now without respite – her screaming and sobbing become merged into a constant wail interrupted only by the faltering catching of her breath."Daddy," she chokes out, "please stop hurting me…why… why?"I lower my face to the left of hers and hiss cruelly, "Because you're worthless, and deserve to die, die in pain." Kill me Daddy, beat me to a pulp. I am. More

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