“Faster!” Nanette hollered. I picked up the pace while I contemplated whether my musical career was as fraudulent as the professor’s. I practice... hard and had accomplished a lot in the two years I’d been playing guitar. I was learning the viola da gamba and the mandolin. But the hard work—training my fingers and developing muscle memory—had been done before I inhabited this body. I felt bad about that. And angry. That stupid kid should have been happy with what he had. He was talented. He had. "I was getting uncomfortable and told her, "Val. You don't have to tell me this if you don't want to." I think I need to tell someone. Even Tiffany only knows I was raped by daddy. No, not daddy; that man ... that monster. I'll burst and die if I can't get this off my chest. So PLEASE?" Okay," was all I said."Well he shoved me into his room. Then threw me onto his bed. I tried to get up, but he pushed me down. I was stupid enough to try again, and he slapped me. He then asked me ... no he told. More

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