| The Essence of Addiction"( ds F/M mc anal )[1/1]
It was poor man's cold, cold like when the landlord turned off the
heat and we children huddled together to keep warm. Cold like in solitary,
when the asshole guard's stuck me in an unheated cell.
"Rich man never knows a cold like this," Daddy used to say. His
comments didn't make the night go by any quicker, or the cold any warmer.
I was alone now. Daddy was ten years dead, too much whiskey, too much
poor man's cold. I didn't miss him. He beat my mother to death and
scarred my sisters in ways that would never heal.
I heard the car start, startling me back to reality, releasing me from
my memories. I crouched deeper into the bushes and watched the car pull
out of the driveway. I smiled in spite of the cold. There were no more
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