Tiffany finally voiced her concern..."You hate me...don't you Chrissy?" This is when Chuck stepped in..."Tiff, I don't think it's a good idea if...", ...hich was when Tiffany forcefully made it clear. "Shut the fuck up Chuck...I want to hear it from HER". Now I'm at the point where truth-telling goes hand in hand with the blood-alcohol content level. But I cut off my alcohol supply, because I know when to say when. "No Tiffany, I don't hate you" and I promptly dismissed myself and crashed back on. Unlike the night before he showed little sign of congenial warmness, his face a mask of confusing anger. In a swift motion he bent my elbows behind my back and held my wrists together effortlessly despite my wriggled attempts to free myself. Pulling me toward him so that I was flush to his chest he roped the material around them tightly and raised me up to straddle his legs.Sitting he wiped some wet hair from my face. “It’s good to see you babygirl, you left me very worried.” I dared not reply. More

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