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She hears footsteps behind her. She closes her eyes; she doesn’t want to be there... “AAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRHHHHHHHH!”She has never heard such a blood-curdling cry. Yamamoto just hit Laura’s helpless soles with a stiff, sharp Japanese cane.“Next time, you’ll be careful...”Yamamoto boasts of his exquisite artistic taste and culture. He can decipher Egyptian hieroglyphics and cuneiform writing, he understands Sanskrit, he can read classical Greek and Latin, and he is an informed and well-known music lover. But his favorite art is dancing. Laura was a famous dancer and she worked for one of the most famous Parisian companies. Born in Seville, she had grace and rhythm in her blood. Yamamoto acquired her for her talent and often forced her to dance naked and shackled for him. But the night before, after a long day of sexual torture and appalling rape, she was exhausted. He inflicted this punishment on her, claiming a minor slip in her dance technique.The soles of her feet are red. An. She was 15yrs old her sister was 13years old and they lived with their mum and her boyfriend. I knew who the mum was, she told me she was going on night out in a different town and wouldn't be back till the next morning, she couldn't find a babysitter and asked if i would just do it for a little bit of money, being nice i offered to do it free, she was delighted and showed my to her house, and introduced me to her 2 daughters i would be babysitting, chelsea the elder and chloe the younger, i already knew who they was and they knew me, we are neighbours afterall.The time is now 10.30pm and the mother, Liz, started to makes moves on her late saturday night out with her boyfriend.After a while i watched a movie with both the girls, Chelsea the elder ordered her sister to go to bed, and so she did and then she went out the room herself leaving me alone in the front room. 10min later she came back, but oddly she now was wearing a very short black skirt and a really small tight top which.
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Her eyes were red and the dark clouds of tear streaked mascara had begun to run into the flush of her cheeks. The crowd surrounding the casket fell into silence, graver than it already had been. ‘My mother was loving. My mother was kind. She cared for me with the whole of her heart. For those of you that do not know me, I am Nina, daughter of Melanie and Lucius. Melanie was a mother and a wife. Her love for everyone was greater than I could ever imagine. To my mother, I bid adieu. With love, I bid farewell.’ Nina dropped to a kneel beside her mother, face buried in her hands. A man proceeded down the aisle, face grave, shoulders proud. He carried another red candle, pinching the base of it in two fingers, twisting the candle so the melted droplets would not touch him. He stared straight ahead, his left hand tucked in his pocket. ‘Melanie was my wife,’ he said blankly, setting his own candle beside Nina’s. ‘She was kind and everyone loved her dearly. We shall prove to her as she.

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