Most of the paint had faded off and the tinsel, which had once been glued carefully with her nine year old hands, was now down to only one or two stra...ds, but she couldn’t bear to part with it. So, on the tree it went. Clayton got up off of his knees and searched the tree for others that held such deep memories and feelings for him. They’d never mean anything to her again. The thought made him angry but he pushed it back. He continued to finger the different decorations: A cinnamon bun made of. “What should I call you then papa?” To be honest I didn’t think that far yet. What should she call me? “You can call me brother.”“But I don’t want to call my Father Brother that’s stupid.” Jessica said with a sad expression on her face. I gave in and said “Fine, you can call me papa in private but you have to call me brother in public okay?” She agreed with a simple nod and grabbed on to my arm. “You know you’re too adorable for your own good.”“Only for you papa,” Jessica said with a smile.. ..if she's like her mother she'll be fucking ace. I watched her put her white dress on....what a fucking joke that was....virginal white....she'd been banged more times than the front door. So anyway.....off she goes to the church....I remember it well, coz Newcastle had just won the cup....fucking last time that happened...useless cunts...and every fucker was in a good mood..anyway, she...her slut mother,,,says all these vows about...love... honour...obey....pile of shight. Two hours later the. But I could hear the girls settle down and their breathing even out. I could feel the cold brass of the Colt beneath my fingers. Extending just those senses, I could tell exactly where everyone in the camp was.It was a long night.I heard Harriet get up before dawn. Miranda was asleep but I could still manipulate her body—still hear clearly where the girl was. I drew the Colt and held it in my lap following the movement of her steps. Soon, after a quick whisper to one of the other.
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