“We had better get you cleaned up” I said. Looking down at her laid in the foetal position, her hair was a tangle and a mess, her grip way to far ...own, her face had make-up streaks from both eyes, her lipstick, all but gone, except for a few smudges, away from her luscious lips, traces of juices on her face. Her blouse was open, with one breast fully exposed, her nipple bright and like a bullet, nearly touching the carpet. Her skirt was up around her waist, one stocking was laddered and around. I usually made coffee, read the morning paper and discussed what the day was going to be like with Betsy, but not that day. I stopped at the Village Inn for breakfast and then went into the office. I didn't get much done that day because my mind was trying to process what was going on with Betsy.Betsy wasn't home when I got there and she still wasn't home by bedtime. I decided to wait up for her determined to get to the bottom of what was going on. She came home at one in the morning and was. Better off filing them away as a bad dream." But they still happened, right?" Freddie said, taking a deep sigh. "My biological f*mily is made up of two psychos and a deadbeat. Great." Well... think about it this way," the man said, crossing his leg over his knee. "If you have it all to do over again, what would you do differently?" Everything, of course..." Freddie blurted. "I'd never go there, I'd have stopped the killer before she did anything, I wouldn't have slept with Carly, and-" Little. She had trodden this path before. Oliver would have left her on tiptoe, to add to the pain, he was an unfeeling bastard like that, but her son had left her on her flat feet and with enough slack to move but not escape. Time in the darkened room, passed slowly, not that she had any way of knowing that of course, no chink of light under the door, and the curtains drawn, her thoughts turned inwards, molehills becoming mountains, an itch that needed scratching, a hair tickling her nose, her.
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