“He liked humping me. He drank all the time, probably because if he wasn’t drinking he’d realize how bad it was to take your thirteen-year-old daughter to bed. I did it, though. Maybe I liked it. It feels awfully good inside you.” She laughed at Qurrah’s blush. “He never even bothered to tell me he loved me. He hated me. I knew it, so he never lied. I think sometime over those two years he broke my mind.”

Again that insane laugh. Qurrah’s heart tore at the sound. Part of it was adorable. The other part was pure madness, and it frightened him beyond words. She continued, her voice dropping into an even quieter whisper.

“One night I had a plan. I made it seem like I wanted it, even liked it. Aren’t I such a horrible liar? He got really, really drunk that night. When he was done with me, he drank even more, and fell asleep in a chair. I took some rope and I tied his hands and feet. He couldn’t get out. I tied his neck, too. I didn’t want him moving, because that would ruin the fun.”

“Fun?” Qurrah asked. “Torture is what that man deserved.”

“Torture is fun,” she said. She didn’t smile that time. Qurrah considered fleeing then, but he didn’t. He wanted to hear the end of the story.

“I crushed some glass into tiny pieces and shoved them in his mouth. He woke up choking, but I didn’t stop. I sewed his mouth shut. I had practiced, but with flesh you have to be forceful. Once he couldn’t spit out the glass, the real fun started. Lots of fun. Two years worth of fun.”

She looked to the ground, her face suddenly blushing.

“I kissed his neck just before he tried swallowing the glass. I’m not sure why.”

“He died choking on his own blood,” Qurrah said more than asked. The final image took its turn before his eyes, that of the rough man vomiting intestines filled with shards of glass.

“Shhhh,” Tessanna said through clenched teeth. “It’s a secret.” She leaned back, smiling into her hand. “And don’t you tell anybody.”