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Chapter 1      The night air was cold against my hot, sweaty skin. My clothes felt sticky and damp, and smelled of cigarettes, pot, body odor, and blood. The throbbing ache in my cheek was slowly dimming and I could feel tightness in my right eye and knew it was swelling. I prayed silently that my sight would hold long enough for me to get into a room. There were few lights outside the dark window and I wondered if the driver was taking me where I wanted to go. I have no ...

It seems funny to me now, that I had always thought of Her as perfect. She was the one the only one I wanted to be. Her hair was golden. She was popular, and, of course, very talented. The things that I saw in Her, a child; I just assumed  continued into adulthood, queendom. She was perfect, in my eyes, as well as other's, never flawed. But now I can see. Not a model. The perfect face, and skin, and body. Yes. An even, the most desirable. Wendifiable. But not the one that I thought. Life...

He stands just out of reach Just out of sight. Teasing me, taunting me Calling me with his eyes, his scent Caressing me with his thoughts He glares and smirks I can feel his presence Hunting and haunting I turn to, turning to… Why did I turn? He is not there. He never is. He is here. In my senses, in my mind Under my skin Running through my veins To my heart, and back out Tearing up my body Bring both pleasure and pain. Caring and Tearing Completing and destroying me Leave me, but don&...

Chapter 1 The night air was cold against my hot, sweaty skin. My clothes felt sticky and damp, and smelled of cigarettes, pot, body odor, and blood. The throbbing ache in my cheek was slowly dimming and I could feel tightness in my right eye and knew it was swelling. I prayed silently that my sight would hold long enough for me to get into a room. There were few lights outside the dark window and I wondered if the driver was taking me where I wanted to go. I have no idea how much time had pa...

  The Family Web By Kathleen Eakins                     On the day I was born, I was taken from my mother’s bosom and given to a man who stood in the shadows just outside her room. It is said that my cries quieted as he caressed my tiny face. The man in the shadows spoke my name so that it could be written on the birth and death records of both the mother and child that entered the delivery room that day. Two days later, I was take...