Hank didn’t really rape me, he just stuck some fingers in when he was blackout drunk on the floor mattress. If I had been as drunk as he was I wouldn’t have even remembered it the next day. My friend Chloe said that still counts as rape, just putting the fingers in, and when she said that I suddenly felt like I had been raped, and it felt good, a powerful feeling.
The ghost, flesh now. All day the sound of metal slicing to bone. The dull metallic clang of weapon hitting helmet. Piles of bodies strewn over vast expanses of red and brown earth. Grass matted to the ground with viscera like dogs fur. The ghost and several others have taken refuge in a hole dug the night before. By good fortune, several bodies have fallen and blocked the entrance from site.
What stands out, is her hips rippling, for the thing naughty girls like best. Where is it, she asked, this night of which we’re talking, when Jane got down, on her knees. Where she got. Where she placed a palm on my jeans, and licked, up and down her puckered up lips.