I stared at her beautiful, blood-streaked and tortured face. I felt regret and sadness in that brief moment. Then I swung my weapon down upon her fa...e, splattering brain tissue and bone fragments all over the head of the bed and the wall behind. I hit her over and over again for several minutes, slower each time, until my muscles refused to move any longer. I know not how many times I swung upon my dearest lover, but she was no longer recognizable. I dropped the tire iron and lowered. We were about twenty minutes out of Manchester. My heart was poundingat what might happen. What she --- or you ---- would make me do. Butat the same time, somewhere deep down, a love for the attention andhumiliation that I couldn't control. It, however, had a tight gripover me."What do you mean?" The game we always play. Truth or fiction from your account of ourprevious time together."I thought about what had happened. What I'd written....I did used to work as her maid. It was never anything. More

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