She disappeared up the stairs.

I returned to John, who had never ceased his act of contrition.

"Shut up. You're making me sick." I kicked him in the leg.

"Don't hurt me. You don't have to hit me. I'll do what you want." He whined.

I kicked him again. In the hipbone, where it would hurt, and close enough to his crotch to make him flinch badly. "Wrong. I want to hurt you. I like to hurt you. The only reason I haven't hurt you worse is because I don't want Debbie to see. Now that she's gone, we can play a little. You better hope she packs fast." He...