.. I'm just like him." I hold her face in my hands, the skin hot and wet, and her eyes are all puffy and red-rimmed.And she still looks beautiful. "No...Sam, no you're not."My brow furrows, "But I-"She shakes her head as best she can, a melancholy smile on her lips. She brings her hands up to circle my wrists. "I could've stopped you. I could've said stop. You stopped when I took your wrist." She squeezes a wrist lightly, as if to remind me. "But I didn't."And I'm feeling things again. Painful. With the assistance of Ethel, my kicking and squealing was of littleuse in the face of such formidable opposition and I was soon clad inthe same constricting and alien attire as my cousin, my long hairpainstakingly arranged in ringlets and pink satin bows, which matchedmy horrible pink velvet dress below which peeped layer after layer ofmy white anglais lace pantaloons, which reached down nearly to myankles as I sobbed and trembled at the cruel and unjust punishment Iwas being subjected to,. More

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