You asked if I had remembered my wig, and I nodded a surprisingly sheepish yes, to which you patted my leg and said, "Good girl, now put on your shoes...and lock the ankle strap and give me the key." I sighed and did just that. Knowing that now things had definitely gone further than I would have ever suspected. You flung the pile of clothes I had worn into the back seat, along with the bag, empty but for the tissue paper in which some of the items had been wrapped. Then you started talking to me. I told him that the last I checked my name was on the papers and I owned this house.“Reba, I am sorry to tell you this but Duray kind of forced my hand, and I signed over my part of the house to him,” Brock said from the floor. I kicked him in his bare ass and he grunted and told me that was fair.“How did he force your hand?” I asked.Brock stuck a broken twisted finger out from under the table and said “He literally forced my hand,” and I wanted to laugh or cry. That hardly seemed legal but. More

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