Not touching was the seed of my temptation to end it quickly. There had to be more than what I saw from Lars and Stephen. I had to look, but I fucking...sure as hell did not want to!I walked down to the basement. Glimpses of it had come from touching Celia. The visions from the guys showed me the room in sick detail. It was nothing like standing over the mattresses the girls were raped on. I sat down and stared at the floor, the walls, and finally at the rape altar.There were more than the six. "Thank you Dick. I think I'm going to really depend upon you. You're such a smart man. I can tell by reading your books. You're so good at poetry, Dick."I think I may have been blushing. "That's kind of you, Emma. I know I'm not a great poet, but I do think I've written a few poems that would stand up to critical scrutiny." Well, I just know they seem good to me. So anyway, I was wondering. It seems so silly, doesn't it? I mean, I'm sunbathing and I have this silly bottom on, and I know my sun. More

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