At first, there's a lot of 'What if?' shit goin' on in my head; then I looked up at my reflection in the mirror on the wall, and shit kinda came crash...ng down... 'Keisha! There you stand in an old yellow cotton print nightgown that's just about see-through, it's been washed so many times, and looks like a circus tent, a pair of pink granny panties that probly got holes in 'em, and flip-flops, with your hair all pinned up under a red bandana -- an' you're gonna go in there an' make some ol'. “Give that to me!” she yelled, pointing at my cock. “Mum,” Tabatha was saying, but I was turning on my heels and running from this madness. ‘ANDREW!” Mum screamed. I ran faster. Behind me I could hear Tabatha’s voice.“Mum! I felt it. It was real. It was his.”I slammed my bedroom door. I couldn’t make sense of what just happened.A few minutes later, Tabatha knocked on my bedroom door. I didn’t say anything, but she came in anyway. “Mum said I have to apologise.”It didn’t sound like it. It concluded that: He was blackmailing her for sex. He was threating her with ‘my!’ termination and destruction. He forced her to have sex with him. And now I knew who he was. He was my boss. Jim Johnson. He was the reason my wife, Breana, killed herself. He was the reason she was dead. FOUR STAGES OF GRIEF:I went into a rage. “That son of a bitch, that no good son of a bitch!!” I swore, pacing back and forth.Connie was trying to calm me down. She grabbed my shirt trying to hold me in place.. Well the evening before our weekend get away I walked in on something I NEVER thought I would see. As I returned home from a long day at work I noticed my husbands car in the driveway which wasnt normal because I always made it home from work like an hour & half before he did. So I went about my business & went inside our home. I figured I would've found him in the living room or kitchen but I was wrong. So I started down our hallway & as I came up onto our bedroom door I began to hear a.
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