Hidden in a toolbox, in the rafters of his four-car garage, was an envelope full of pictures taken by a private detective...They were pictures of a scrawny, boyish looking nine year old with a wide mouth and a tangle of brown hair...Her eyes were oblong and deep set, their color hidden from the camera by the slant of the sun. The angles and planes of her face were oddly beautiful just then, in that moment, frozen on Kodak paper. A hint of the woman she would someday become.

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.

I want you to smile. I want you to truly smile today.Realize that right now you are where you need to be. And, there is no need to rush. You are on-time, you always have been and you will always be. Please keep smiling.

Can I kiss you?_ And she would let him, lightly on her lips, a moment of brief anticipation. __our kisses are like sugar woman._ He would tell her affectionately. __o sweet._ He would close in on her and then ask softly, __lease spend the night with me.

I wasn't trying to make you jealous. But if jealousy does this to you, I might need to consider it._ He gripped my sides firmly, letting his lips gently dance over mine, __ags, I__ yours. You have nothing to worry about.

Absolutely. No more pretending!