“TELL ME FOR f***s SAKE. You got a mouth use it.”
I am sure his men stationed outside this hotel suite that I have been cooped up in for the past month can hear him.
We've been sitting on these chairs for hours, all these men's pictures scattered across the glass table.
He wants to know, he wants faces, names.
I look into his drunk face, because that is what he is, he is always drinking his f*****g brandy,
“All of them, okay, thirty three men r***d me, lucky number thirty three,” I laugh, howling like the crazy person I am.
He never minds or stops it, even if he did, he can go f**k himself for all I care.
“So I was thinking, do I add them to my f**k list or not.”
The thought just makes me laugh harder.
His eyes widen, lifting his brandy now with trembling fingers. I don’t stop lau
