There wasn't any plantation anymore and I thought that was too bad. I wondered what it would have been like to be a house negra back a hundred and fif...y years ago, a bedroom slave for a man who owned a hundred others. There'd be a crowd of blacks bent over in the sun, women and children singing while they picked cotton with burlap sacks hanging from their shoulders. The men would have been working the machinery and bailing raw cotton onto wagons for the short ride to the Mississippi River and. Fuck, I wish you were here right now...I could surely use the attention. The more I drank, the more lonely I felt. I was used to having Max around, so I really didn’t like being home alone. Granted it had been a few nights since I’d had the recurring nightmare about Him, but I wasn’t sure how night one without Max would go. Would the nightmare return? And, if it did, would it finally have it’s inevitable ending that seems to get closer and closer each night? Not having Max around if the. More

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