Cleansed but not refreshed, I dress in simple jeans and an unadorned T-shirt, apply no hint of makeup. I want no attention, no compliments, no come- on nor get-off smiles. I want to be Mother Teresa, helping the elderly.

Okay, it's a ridiculous fantasy, but one I desperately need right now.

462.

Enveloped by November Fog I walk to work. Slowly.

I see now, more than ever.

that I belong to Daddy.

My father is my keeper.

I can never escape to Ian.

Ian was only a fantasy.

Beautiful make-believe.

A movie poster to focus **

on when I have to hide out inside my own head.

By the time I reach the old folks' home, **

I realize I have to break things off with Ian, **

Not fair to let him keep thinking we have a future.

Not fair to me to play this game any longer.

I go inside, drowning.

Crying, inside and out 463.

The First Face I See Belongs to William. He can't help but notice the state I'm in.

Straightaway, he puts an arm around my shoulder.

You okay?

I yank away from his touch, like he's fresh from the oven.

My muscles twitch, quiver, begin to shake uncontrollably.

Greta, nearby, rushes to my side, latches onto my elbow.

Come with me. No ifs, ands, or buts about it, young lady.

Next thing I know, I'm in Greta's room, on her bed, tissue in hand.

I.

think it's time you told me this deep, dark secret of yours.

Oh, how wonderful it would be to break down. Confess. "I can't."

This has to do with your family.

yes? Perhaps with your father?

Any hint of composure vanishes in a tremendous hailstorm of tears, Greta sits beside me.

I should have told you my story before..

464.

Her Voice Softens Remember once, I told you I met evil when I was very small? My Satan was a butcher, tall, heavyset, and the face he wore looked exactly like mine. He was my father, and he believed he owned me.

A gasp escapes my best effort to hold it inside me.

Greta continues.

He would come home from his butcher shop, rank with blood and fat. Often he stripped without washing, and he would call me into his bedroom, a calf to slaughter.

I was expected to bring a wash basin and soap. "Cleanse me, " he would say. "Take the stench away." Hands. Arms. Feet. Legs.

And by the time I reached the place **

between them, he would be stiff.

And then he would tell me how to touch him before he laid me on the bed and did the thing no father should do to his child....

465.

I cannot believe she's telling me this. Cannot believe this beautiful, strong woman ever suffered this thing.

When I met my Lars. I loved his gentle way, loved how he never demanded. I told you my father found us together, beat me because of it. and I was afraid he would beat Lars. too.

But Lars didn't care. He asked me to marry him, and I so wanted to, but could not imagine sharing a bed with any man. Pleasure from sex? Never! When I said no, Lars went off to soldier.

How I regretted that decision.

Later, my father arranged a marriage to a man no better than he. But that is another story.

And now. if you will, I think you should share your story with me.

466.

Oh, How I Want To But Daddy would kill me, and get away with it. I can't ever tell, not even to someone else who has had sex forced on her by her father.

What if I ask for it somehow, maybe subconsciously? Being brutally honest with myself, it feels good.

How can that be? Not that there's any joy in it. Unlike Greta, I want to know joyous sex.

It does exist outside of books, doesn't it? I want sex laced with love, and not warped parental love, but the honest kind.

I want sex that makes me feel right, not like some freak, some inbred monstrosity. I'm not, am I?

Damn it, I really don't know.

Will it one day be revealed that Mom is actually my grandmother? OMG, could there be even deeper secrets that can't be unearthed, never ever?

467.

Raeanne IMH(not)O In my not-so-humble opinion, Kaeleigh definitely asks for it.

Feigned innocence invites sex more than a frank come-on does.

Anyway, she tries to pretend she doesn't like it, but it feels good and she knows it. Feels good with Mick, although that particular

chapter of my life is definitely over.

Even if he has forgiven the whole truck episode, I prefer a guy who doesn't have another girlfriend spoiling for trouble. Someone like Ty, maybe.

Sex feels great with him, too.

I guess it might be nice for sex to feel right, like the person you're with might even love you. But hey, I'm not exactly sold on the idea that love is, in fact. real.

Will it find me one day, overtake me, infiltrate my life like sunlight snakes through the cold of morning?

Can love thaw me? Will it ever?

468.

I'm Not Even Sure [the words on this page are arranged in such a way that they form two hearts that are cut off at the top, i.e., they are the bottom thirds of hearts.]

What love is, or just what it's supposed to be. They say you learn by example. But no one has set one for me. I only love one person on this entire planet. And he only loves Kaeleigh. My daddy loves Kaeleigh. Ian loves Kaeleigh. And she's incapable of loving either of them back. What a waste.

She only loves Mom. What in the hell is wrong with her, anyway?

Then again, I know something about our mother that Kaeleigh can't quite recall, and if she did, she'd probably dive off a very tall bridge, into shallow water. Stop! Can't think about that now, or I'll have to join Kaeleigh, jump into ultimate freedom. I must admit I have considered that leap from time to time. But I'm afraid to die loveless.

469.

Afraid to Die Loveless Because I think if you die without knowing **

love in this life, that's how you'll spend eternity.

Alone.

Frozen.