November 1, 1981, West Monroe, Ohio“Go pack a bag, Liz. For at least a week.”“Mike, stop and think,” my dad said.“About what? Mom is abusing...Liz almost as badly as the Kramer «мудаки». She can call the cops and have me arrested, but Liz isn’t staying here for one more second and she sure as hell isn’t seeing that abusive counselor!”“At least wait until your mom comes back home.”I shook my head, “No. Liz HAS to be out of here. Now. You know it just as well as I do! I think she’s very nearly. But the undersides of her breasts looked so soft and inviting. My mind wanted to dwell there, imagine me holding her there, kissing her there, suckling her there, on the tender skin under her nipples and down to her ribs. I finally tore my gaze away and tried to focus on the notebook in my lap.I stared at some meaningless report while Shephatiah flipped through her pages. Then I heard her gasp and give a strangled cry. She leaped out of bed and knelt before me on the rug, extending a hand. More

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