" You ain't exactly one to talk, Samantha Puckett." Fucking stop that…" she said, turning around and narrowing her eyes, "you know how much I hate i... when you call me by that name. And may-be I'm not, but Tasha's been missing for like two days now, probably dead, and you haven't said a single thing. You don't care about her." I barely knew her. I met her a few days ago, we had a good time, and it wasn't anything serious. I'm sad she's missing, but if you expect me to just fall and weep for. The air was cold; she felt goosebumps and she shivered and denied that she was naked on the scaffold and that all of the people were watching. She saw a friend, no sympathy there, and a man who knew her father laughing with his friends. She turned away, thinking suddenly that her father would be seeing her shame, driven by his idea of duty to help condemn her to agony and she saw the same a****l look in the warden. They turned her and she still felt the eyes burn into her and the shame. Fear. More

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