My plastic pants were also locked and handing him the keys,I was bound in these clothes.He turned me around and took my thin arms in his beefy hands a...d pulledthem behind my back. I made no attempt to struggle as I felt him bindme with the soft rope I had on the coffee table as prescribed by him inan email. When he finished, he told me to try and get lose. Self-bondage has been something I've played with at home, but always therehad to be a way to escape and I could never master tying. He committed suicide, and that makes my black old heart ache to no end. We identified a lot. I can’t count the times we came to each other’s rescue. We were and still are so much alike. I had myself convinced he was on solid ground before I decided to leave Alabama and start my life anew here in Florida. We shared a lot of the same anguish. The same shame and the same pain. These words are words that I knew were in his heart. We both have terrible drunken bastards for fathers. For that we have. More

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