“I’ve read about it in magazines,” l replied, “so did you do it, l want to know.”“Yes if you must know,” she replied, “l tried to spit...it out the first time but he slapped me and told me l had to swallow it, it was horrible, l thought l was going to be sick.”“You still do it though.”“I’m used to it now… god that sounds awful… what are you going to do? Are you going to tell Mum and Dad, Dad will kill me.”“That depends,” l replied.“Depends on what?” she looked up at me with her tear streaked. He thought she had a life… and a future.It made me want to laugh, not a funny laugh, but a bitter, hollow, despairing one, yet I needed to be quiet. The last time I made noise and drew attention to myself, the guy broke my arm before I managed to wrestle free and run out the door. He had wanted to take his frustrations with my mother out on my innocent body. Truth be told, I was rather lucky that all he had managed to do was break a bone. He could have broken me.And my mom? She hadn't bothered. More

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