She cut a deep gash into her own arm with a steel screw, loosing drops of her own blood onto the floorboards. “Did your foster dads ever try to molest you?” “Of course they did, John. She hated living like that. He was evidently nervous, and very anxious to be impressive; his projecting eyes sought to dominate. . But I am always afraid that he may get in while I am away. “Who can tell?” she said. He moved her dress from her shoulders and off her torso. I ought to have seen—” “It doesn’t matter a rap—if you’re not disposed to resent the—the way I behaved.
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