.. wasn’t shameful, wasn’t something that needed to be hidden, wasn’t something that clung to you, like filth from a cesspool, that somehow cont...minated you forever. Why was he looking that way?“Yes,” he answered, quietly.He was affirming what I was saying but his look was, ‘so what’. I’d spell it out clearly for him, even if I had to rip the words from the depths of my shattered and nearly lifeless soul.“You are older than Duane. Do you not know what I’m talking about?” The voice I heard. ”“Carly Conwright?” Sam prompted.“No.”“Then what is your last name?” Sam asked again. The ritual wasn’t going to work if he didn’t know her last name and Sam wanted this girl pregnant. Not just fucked. He wanted her tight little stomach to swell up with his bastard child. Her tits to expanded with milk.“Her last name’s Watson.” a helpful boy chimed in.“Oh. My mistake. I guess I don’t know you at all.” Sam said. Seeing no reason to continue the charade Sam turned to leave. Repeated Carly. More

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