Jason and Rosalie resided on the East Coast and a storm was coming in. They lived in a large, one story house, painted in a lovely light maroon, in an...area suited to Rosalie's likes (a small area located off the coast of Rhode Island). It was also decorated to her liking, having a vintage, pastel feel to it-- as if it were still in the 1970's. Jason always treated her daughter like a princess, loving her so. Rosalie never acted as if she were spoiled and always wanted her father happy, knowing. “104! 109! 117!...” They shouted, gallon after gallon of juice erupting from her. After 147 times, she was clearly exhausted, weakly mewing as I savaged her insides with unrelenting fury. “Now Valsivale, I’m going to give you just a small taste of what will happen if you EVER show me such disrespect again.” “mngh, guh, whhhaa?” She managed, hair matted with sweat against her face as she turned back slightly to look at me with tired, terrified eyes. Grabbing a fist full of her hair I grabbed. More

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