Unseen. Nancy Bush
old.
But girls…they were beautiful. Lovely, lovely thighs and ankles and flat chests with skin drum-taut, and narrow little wrists.
It was a sickness; he knew that. He didn’t care. Ed had waited all his life for something for himself. When was it Eddie’s turn, huh? And he wasn’t going to wait anymore. He was going to take what he wanted. What he needed. What he deserved!
But…what had happened? He was in deep shit, here, he could tell, and there was a murky memory of something bad…
Damn drugs. He was sinking under them, but at least that would mean the pain would go away. He was hurt. He needed to heal.
He could see that lovely, lovely girl reaching for the soccer ball…
In his dream he reached back.
Lovely…
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