I am helpless. Exposed. And, strangely, somehow I feel at home this way.

Say it, he demands, like I should know he means, Please, sir. Punish me.

Deliberate, controlled, he punishes me.

I whisper into the pillow, "I understand.

214.

I Understand Why Kaeleigh liked the feel of slicing her flesh, releasing bottled-up hurt. Leather snaps against my skin, and I remain still as stagnant water, afraid I might not play by his rules. This is a new game, and the sick thing is, I see quickly that I like it, might ask to play again.

The pain is fuzzy at the edges, blurring toward pleasure.

Maybe it's the hash, the gentle arms of opium. And now new leather--human, Ty-- falls softly over the heated welts, a soothing balm of sweat-beaded skin. But then heightened pain, forced inside me, stuffed inside me. Seared, branded, likely marked, a moan escapes me and Ty surges.

After, knots loosened, a rub of cool eucalyptus oil persuades me I do want to play again. Soon.

215.

Kaeleigh Long Night Unable to slip into sleep, unable to fall into dreams, unable to lie completely still, snared by tangled thoughts.

Sometimes, usually well after the witching hour, Raeanne comes to me, shares my bed like she did so long ago. She listens to me, soundlessly, doesn't argue or judge.

Eventually, I slip into the gentle tide of unconsciousness. But tonight she doesn't appear.

I am left to wrestle memories alone, comforted only by the balm of cool satin sheets. I force my body to relax, feel it grow heavy. Heavy enough to sink into the satin balm.

A moan bubbles into my mouth, from I don't know where-- some inconceivable place where pleasure and joy are one.

216.

Not Sure Exactly When I managed to fall asleep, but it must have been eventually because I'm tugged like cement into morning by the sound of the telephone.

Daddy's feet pound toward the ringing.

Hello...? Hello...?

Okay, who the fuck is this?

Funny, I hardly ever hear Daddy curse. He must be really pissed. The thought is confirmed by his footfall, in angry approach of my door.

He bursts through and fear swallows me down.

Do you have any idea who's responsible for these hang-ups?

One thought immediately crosses my mind, but I'll be damned if I want to get caught in the middle of the brewing storm. "No. Should I?"

217.

He softens, but only a little.

I.

thought maybe it was one of your friends. Or.. .

white glare ...

a boyfriend?

Like I would ever let a boy call here! Like I would dare say that. "None of my friends would do that, Daddy. And I don't have a boyfriend."

Well.. . it's just that this has been happening for several days. I answer, click.

Maybe it's one of your mom's secret admirers.

"Mom's admirers aren't so secret, Daddy. It's probably just a solicitor or something.

Anyway, doesn't the number show up on caller ID?"

Now why didn't I think of that?

His voice fairly sprays sarcasm.

It's a private number. Hurry it up now, or you'll be late.

218.

The Clock Agrees I'm supposed to meet Brittany in twenty minutes. Still, I just can't seem to "hurry it up."

Mostly because he told me to.

I slide out of bed, shuffle to the bathroom, do my thing.

Brush my teeth and hair.

By the time I return to my room in search of clothes, **

Daddy is hustling toward the door.

Come straight home after work. Hear me?

Like where else would I go?

But, of course, despite the serious resentment that blooms immediately, I say simply, "Okay."

He is all the way into the garage before calling over his shoulder, And don't answer the phone.

219.

Do This, Don't Do That I seriously despise the man, would do just about anything not to obey him, at least if I thought I could get away with it or even that the sure consequences would be sufferable.

But when Daddy decides to make you suffer, it's more than any- one can bear.

220.

But He's Gone Now So I'm going to do the likely less than intelligent thing and dress exactly how I want. Not hippie today. Frumpy? Slutty?

Hey, maybe no clothes at all?

Probably not a good plan.

Who knows if Brittany's silver bomber can even make it to school without breaking down?

Speaking of that, she'll be here soon. Better shake my tail.

Where did that saying come from, anyway? I slide into a glam velour jogging suit. Not frumpy. Not slutty, Just soft and definitely not an outfit Daddy would want me to wear to school. Too casual.

(Although, really not casual enough for a decent jog.) **

Out the door, into the cold morning, I'm glad I'm wearing sweats, if you can really call glam velour sweats. Up the sidewalk, to the corner where I'm supposed to meet Brittany.

221.

(Wasn't sure Daddy would approve of that, either, should he have been home to see me climb into a half-dilapidated Toyota.) Hey, maybe I defied him twice in one morning.

Wouldn't that be a coup?

As I wait for Brittany (late, go figure!), my mind wraps around that "shake my tail"

thing. Some deep place inside my brain latches onto it and doesn't want to let go. Where did I hear that? The voice I don't quite remember is low.

Feminine. Not Mom's, though.

Too scratchy. So whose?

222.

Brittany, Finally And she's not alone. Riding shotgun is Joel, who I know from drama. And in the back- seat, next to my apparently appointed place, is Shaun.

Ian's little brother. Great.

Not that he's not a nice kid, but sitting back there next to him seems somehow incestuous. Oh, well.

It's just a ride to school, right?

Oh hey.

coos Brittany.

Sorry I'm late, but I had to pick up the guys. Joel was right on time but Shaun?

She giggles.

Oh, yech. Maybe Brittany as transportation won't work out so well after all. But one day won't hurt, right?

Anyway, the bus already went by. My choices are limited. "No problem."

223.

Not Being Top of the hour, the radio blares.