It took over an hour for her to finish the front. She pushed on to the back. She was trying to figure out what had come over her. She was hot and swea...y, but felt good, somehow. She looked behind her. The mowed grass made a wake in her path.She figured out that she was doing it because it would make her feel better to know that anonymous people passing by her house would think more of her for having done it. Respect was so hard to come by—and so often squandered. Her private wisdom surprised. I couldn't open my left eye properly, my lips felt bloated, titsached and arms were sore, but the worst part was the dull throbbing hurtright at the top of my thighs and even worse than that, inside. PoorKirsty, I thought. How many times had this already happened to her? Icried a bit for her, then as I fully got my thoughts in order andconsidered just what had happened to me, I cried for me too.A detective named Deb was allocated to look after me. Deb stayed with mewhile a smiling, chatty. More

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