No, not hatred. That implies a personal stake. I was just there.I cast my eyes to my right arm (I'd made sure to keep it out of the water; wet skin ...oesn't cut so easily). The old scars and the newer cuts, yet to completely heal; raised welts on the skin. My head spinning, the tears spilling down my cheeks, I cut crossways, clean and methodical, a perfect 90? angle. Again. Again.I lie back and watch the blood mingle with the water.***And that was my day; a Thursday. Only one more day to. But the traitor hand pushed down, forcing him back.The tip popped through the sphincter with a rush of pain, and he knew hewas bleeding. But he stayed mute. Being hurt would turn Vinnie on.Silently he pushed back ward, his ass cheeks suddenly hitting the coldpainted wall."Oh, god," he whispered again. Now his legs betrayed him, shoving himforward. He could almost feel the phantom hands on his hip. "Please,slowly. Let me get used to it. Please."His piteous cry was answered. He knelt there,. More

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