Then raped me again. My father was begging them to stop, that he'd say whatever they wanted, only that they'd stop hurting me. So, after a while, they...did stop. Hours after he'd broken. I had to stand there as he babbled, and as they shot him in the back of the head. Of course, that wasn't quite the end. They enjoyed raping me so much they kept on. In the same room with my father's corpse. Then took me home to my mother."I started to stand, but she strode over and stopped me, touched my lips. These were the best of times, with a seemingly endless string of parties where we talked into wee hours of the morning. Sophie and I had become quite close, not in a romantic way but as part of the same small circle of friends. To be truthful, I was far too afraid of risking our friendship by asking her out. When we found ourselves alone after one such party, I rather awkwardly broached the subject of the telephone conversation. After her initial shock and embarrassment, Sophie opened up and. More

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