Shirts and jeans litter the asphalt, the empty fabric limbs askew as if they're attempting to escape. Blood smears Sarah's lips as she struggles against the chest of a dirty looking man with a beard. Terror. Terror is the only word my mind can seize on and it forgets what it means. I forget how to think - to move.
If you're a girl, you're always Daddy's little girl. You're vulnerable, no matter how worldly or sophisticated or strong you'd become along the way. My dad Lionel let me know how proud he was, even as he kept me from being too big for my britches.
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If you're a girl, you're always Daddy's little girl. You're vulnerable, no matter how worldly or sophisticated or strong you'd become along the way. My dad Lionel let me know how proud he was, even as he kept me from being too big for my britches.
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