One thing was certain. She loved him. She loved him unlike any other. He was a former minister in a local church who had "lost his way" with alcohol and other substances. Many days passed, though they all seemed to fade into each other. They would have me nap with them. He would hold her in his arms whilst I laid beside my mother he would use his hands to slowly strip every ounce of innocence left from my callow body.
As much as I was permitted, I attended sleep-overs and stayed with other adults. My older brother and his girlfriend began to be a refuge. When I was no longer allowed to stay with the nice lady or my friend, I would retreat to his home, wherever that may be at the time. I was safe there, even though drugs were a regular occurance; HE couldn't touch me there. There were times, however, when I had to return home. Thankfully, during the hunting and fishing seasons, he remained unseen. It was those times when he returned that I dreaded most.
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