In the heat of the southern sun she lies under the porch in the dirt with the bugs, her skin crawling. But it is better than on her knees with him pressing his cock, smelling of urine, into her throat. He does not look for her here.
She is a good little sister, is she not?
They are not even under my bed where cake might be left for them, Li/ee’s kin. It is more than annoying. I have been silent all week but this night I cannot sleep for it. I have wept for my loss, but this is fury, not to know to whom they will go.