Besides Mommy, the Holy Mother was the prettiest girl in the world. She had white hair like an old lady, but soft skin, a kind face, and wise, powerfu... eyes that matched the hue of her hair. That painting was ash now, ash like Mommy and Daddy, but the Holy Mother couldn’t be hurt by my fire. She’s watching over me, making sure I’m OK. She can’t hold me like Mommy could, and she can’t speak to me like Mommy could, but I can feel her. Every time the bad feelings come, and the fire wants to burn,. We had met him through him doing a job for us, our pool pump had been playing up and his company sent him out to fix it. That might have been an end to it but we had recently put an add in Personal Columns a local contact magazine, somehow the photo we had sent in was not masked too well so anyone that studied it would see the close resemblance between Anne and the photo in the magazine. Well it appeared that Simon was a sex mad teen who had a thing for older women that happened to have spent a. More

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