He knew her name as well, Hildie. Her indigo walls were adorned with an eclectic mix of posters. Three heartthrobs: Pitt, Leonardo, and Dr. Fauci. Fin...lly, there she was lying exposed on her paisley comforter, wearing matching hunter-green bra and panties like a Technicolor vision. Tom was well aware of her fashion sense in undergarments. When the house was empty he had crept into her chambers and carefully inspected her panty drawer emporium. Her color selection rivaled Kubrick's choices in. For she also knew with grim certainty that this wouldn’t be the last time she’d come in direct response to pain. They’d tuned her body like an instrument that could only be plucked by their malevolent will.I can’t live with who I’ve become. But neither do I have any choice in the matter.She tried to cry, but found that she couldn’t.Who am I?Her eyes refused to open lest they see the answer.When at last she forced them to do so, hours after falling back into dark nightmares of despair, she was. More

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