Lilian cried out but Turner did not stop. When Lilian’s summer clothes were no more than rags, he began to take off his clothes. Lilian tried to push him away.
“I’ve told you I don’t want it. Stop it.”
“Shut up,” Turner shouted at her again. He wanted to alleviate the dryness of his parched lips with the kiss of Lilian, but she withdrew from him, and he could only lick her face. He had never forced himself on a woman, but now the feeling that he could do anything to her, with no restraint, overpowered him. This is what slaveholders must have felt when they r***d their black slaves, or Nazi physicians when they violated the prettiest Jewish girls before dissecting them in the name of science. The monster in man can never be let out from the cell of the subconscious because then all hell b
