I grew up in a small town in Massachusetts, and despite growing up with issues like special needs and bullying, I grew into an intelligent young woman with a drive to succeed and the artistic talents to fuel it. For as long as I could remember, I've loved to tell stories. I've loved to talk since I was a little girl, I've gone through an acting phase, and right now my top interests are writing and singing. I have a burning passion for both, and I hope that I can use my passion and talents to make a difference (and let's keep it real: some money would be nice, too.)
Me singing "My Immortal" by Evanescence a capella. Music (c) to Evanescence, obviously. My microphone sucks, sorry.Duration: 03:37
[CHAPTER 1 - VERONA, ITALY - 9 AUGUST, 1989]
“Damn.” It was a long, drawn-out, mid-coitus “damn”-and this man didn’t get to utter those often. His “damn”s were more often due to frustration, but even then they weren’t that mild in tone. One would more often hear harder curses like, “God damn it,” “Rollin’ down Shit Creek,” or even “Fuck it all!” from the likes of him. But it was about time for a break, and this hooker-now she knew what the hell she was doing. Not to mention that gorgeous rack of tits. He heaved a sigh of pleasure as the woman above him bounced up and down with each passing thrust. His hands groped at her plump, supple, bare breasts. He couldn’t help himself when he gave her buttock a slap. “Fuck yeah, baby. Just like that…” he moaned.
“Yeah, you like that, don’t you?” she teased. A sudden burst in energy possessed her. She thrust herself at him faster and faster until finally, he came with a low groan. The hooker half-moaned, half-giggled as he fell limp between her smooth legs. Her feather-light frame fell into his chest as she bent down to nibble at the bare skin of his neck and collarbone and below. “Holy Jesus.” Everything this broad did was perfect.
And yet, the void the Krauts had left in him remained unrepaired. The flame he’d toiled so long to fuel had been so thoroughly extinguished with the drop of a single blade. That old, former hope was still gone.