The shards shimmer with the full moon, which I finally notice at 11:35 pm. I make note to always appreciate the moon, not enough people do so in my humble opinion.I digress, however, as more of a gut reaction I kneel down and pray. I don't notice when shards of glass slide past the boundaries of my skin and let loose rivulets of blood. I wince, my lips curl back into a half knowing smile an instant after. I make a silent prayer, for me and mine, wishing, wanting, desiring, hoping, praying (redundant), fighting, struggling, despairing, for everything in the world and more, that one day. I can feel pretty.Strut my stuff in heels and a tight red dress pretty, not the "Oh your features are so pretty for a guy" pretty. I've had just about enough of that, thank you very much.I stay that way, entranced in my own prayer for a good minute or so. I lose track. Until slowly, sleep takes me.(Hey, enjoying the story? If so, write a comment about some smoldering scenes you'd like to see come to. What was wrong with Kathy? They'd drugged her... my Cod, his wife was smoking pot! The little bastards, the fucking little snots! He focused on the fuzzy-lipped teenagers working at the rope behind him, at the budding breasted young girl who leered down at him, whispering obscenities in his ears, just to taunt him. They were nothing but kids!Kathy lay back on the mattress, waggling her hand back and forth at Art. She looked up with a start of pleasure. Jim was a beautiful young boy, she thought, Lydia was beautiful, life was beautiful, and she wouldn't for a moment have changed anything. "Hi," she said, again, grinning lopsidedly, her eyes squinting slightly to focus.Mockingly, Mark turned. "Hi!" he grinned, waving back.Kathy squinted dreamily at the others. Art was there, too, she saw. But how marvelous that was. Everything was wonderful! Jim--and in her confused, drugged state, the memory of Jim's hands on her naked body sent her soaring--Jim was here! And Art. And Mark. And Lydia..
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