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I hear a little girl call out to her daddy. I turn to look and no one is there. I turn and pick up my pace. My mental state is so fragile I just figure it’s my mind playing tricks. Again, I hear a little girl say “daddy” this time the voice comes from directly in front of me. I instinctively say “hello’. There is no reply but I am freaked out. As I reach my front yard the voice asks “daddy, why didn’t you decorate for Christmas”. I run into the house lock the door and grab the scotch. I ask. I’d never understood the idea that they were meant to be difficult to remove. Time always seemed to slow down, though, in the moments after, as the bra fell away to reveal the woman’s breasts. Esmee’s breasts deserved to be accompanied by an orchestra. They were like drops of water running down a window – they had a clear downward trajectory, but they were flowing rather than hanging. I was babbling. They were fucking perfect.I took one nipple in my mouth and let it roll about my tongue, before. I then washed my face and went to his room, “Now you know how to take care of yourself and you won’t get any more discomfort.”“Thanks, mom,” he said.I kissed him on the cheek then left to go get dressed in my room. I had to clean up the living room and do the laundry so that would keep me occupied for a few hours and not thinking much of what I had done with my son.I understood it wasn’t a normal thing for a mother to do such things, but I was in a different situation since my son wasn’t like. I remember fear and being smothered in someone's clothes, my face pressed into a belly and my legs angled awkwardly in the well of the car. Someone slapped me repeatedly on the head. There were voices. Laughter. The squeal of tyres. The hysteria of a car zig-zagging back and forth round sharp corners.They parked up and shoved me out of the car. I sprawled on wet gravel, my hand grasping for the Taser in my pocket. I was on my back staring at the three guys approaching me. They were.
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