In the living room I see mark under his old black lights watching a young girl of about 4 crying as a strange man casually rapes his daughters daycare...friend streaming across his tv while a form of electronica plays with the documentary. Shifting through the wall into Amelias room I find her right where I left her, rubbing her budding pussy lips and little rose bud of an asshole, back into her I search her mind and realize she drank her orange drink some time ago and was very thirsty, I get up. A thin gold chain stretched tightly around her neck, and a tussle of long, black hair hung down to below her left shoulder, tamed only by a red hairband. Her head was tilted to the left as well, and her face seemed sculpted out of dark tanned ivory, with a triangular chin and narrow blue eyes decorated with subtle black eyeliner. They stared at me with intensity, and her lips were thin.She paused. “Why won’t you talk?” I said nothing at first, and figured this wouldn’t be good for me. I asked,. More

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