‘Hey Petre, want to come down to the garage and cut loose, I’ve got a bottle of Jack Daniels and some really good weed in there.’ Smiling up at ...is soon to be murderer, Petre got up and walked with Konstantin totally unaware of what was to about to happen, thinking he was going to have a really good night relaxing, whilst the man next to him tried to remember how many bullets he had left in the gun tucked in his holster under his armpit. One or two. Never mind, it will only take the one, just. She was over eighteen, an adult, making her own choices in life. The incidents with Emma were not her fault, she had been pressured into them. Her reasoning continued as she re-read the letter, her mind finding myriad excuses for her excesses, her pleasures. She had been teaching them, dammit! They had fun. It was Emma that came into her room that night, anyway, who slipped into her bed. What was she supposed to do? Her anger boiled inside her. She threw the letter into the air and grabbed the. More

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