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.
You needn__ worry. I don__ think you have aged enough for me to partake of you. Blood, women, wine, and cheese all get better with the passage of time. You are not quite ripe. --Lane DeLuca
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You needn__ worry. I don__ think you have aged enough for me to partake of you. Blood, women, wine, and cheese all get better with the passage of time. You are not quite ripe. --Lane DeLuca
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