“You still remember that apple juice is my favorite?” Dylan asked the looming figure in the dark and was sadistically glad when it jumped at his intrusion. He was furious and he did not understand the real reason. All he could remember was some pathetic excuse of a man fondling with her and she had allowed him to.
Furious was too weak a word to describe his wrath. He was seeing red. All he wanted was to get out of there but something was holding him back. Curiosity maybe.
As she stood transfixed in front of him trying most probably to make out who it was in the dark, he was taking a perverse pleasure in tormenting her. All because of what she had become.
“Dylan,” she finally whispered feebly and her stricken look changed to a desperate one. The lamp light allowed him a clear picture
