I remember hearing myself start to whimper, a five-year-old, crouched by the side of the road, staring into my father's eyes, whimpering because it was so dark and there was no one coming to help, whimpering because my mother was back in the crushed car, not moving, and my father was lying here in the dirt, not answering me, not holding me, not comforting me, not helping my mother get out of the car, and there was blood, so much blood, and broken glass everywhere, and it was so dark and so cold and no one was coming to help.

Then he reached up and tore my shirtfront open. "Not much to see, is there?" I said, struggling to talk with a crushed windpipe. "I know, I know, they can fix things like that these days. Call me a feminist, but I think a woman's worth should be defined not by the size of her bust, but - " I rammed my fist up into his Adam's apple. He grunted and stumbled back. "- by the strength of her right hook.

Still sitting, he reached out and pulled me toward him. We stayed there, looking at each other, his hand still wrapped in my shirt hem, my heart hammering so hard I was sure he could hear it. when I inched closer, not wanting to intrude, he tugged me in front of him and I stumbled, half falling onto his lap. I tried to scramble up, cheeks burning, but he pulled me down onto his knee, one army going around my waist, tentative, as if to say Is this okay? It was, even if my blood pounded in my ears so hard I couldn't think.

Oh, my God! It's a killer Pomeranian." I glanced up at Derek. "It's a tough call, but I think you can take him.

I could shave my head and wear a sackcloth and still get a whole lot of ghostly wrong numbers. Makes me wonder if there’s some kind of ghost-necro porn industry down there. ~Jaime Vegas

Derek picked the spot? Had he been hoping I'd be blinded by the morning sun and stumble off the edge?

Sure. You get all slutty with Rafe. You freak out. You cry date rape drug.' - Hayley