At twelve years of age, she was constantly running for the Mexican border to do the things bad girls would do. For the next four years she found herself dancing and offering herself to the night of Mexican lust.
It was the day she was being released. They had tried her as an adult. He wore fat pants that hung low as did all the boys his age, he thought himself a gangsta. Just shit in a trailer park with a strong tempered dog.
He had the day planned, she'd be getting out at around 2:00pm, plenty of time to walk the mutt, beat off and shower. The masturbation was so he'd last longer with her.
She came out at 2:15 looking frail and a tad thinner than the day she had been incarcerated. Her blond hair resembled dry straw and her demeanor was slight and shy.
He had left the music playing loud to impress her upon their return. He was full of himself, pumped on speed and images in the mirror. His ripped stomach cast shadow on the sanded driveway. The dog had been left in the trailer drooling on the lino floor stinking the place up.
She was proud and impressed at the same time. She had never had a strong man in her life and this punk represented manhood.
He had bought hair dye and convinced her that she would be stronger as a brunette. She believed in her boyfriend who indirectly placed her in confinement.
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