By Jennifer Paquette
His stale breath clung to my pajama top. His hands reeked of endless cigarettes, dirty fingers stained with nicotine. The weight of him at the end of my bed would always send me sliding towards him. I wiggled back up to my pillow, my fists pressing down to keep me in place. I studied his dark green pants and big work boots. Tonight, they were untied.
“How’s Grandpa’s favorite girl?” he asked, reaching for my knees that I clamped shut, his hand hanging over them.[Read more…] about Sixteen