I held nothing back, although we agreed to leave unspoken some details, especially the “defining” event of killing my motherÔs rapist.Because he ...kept his part of the bargain, did not offer any advice, and swore to keep what he knew of me a secret, I let him live when I left. I think we both appreciated the efforts we each made. He gave me a copy of his manuscript, which he could not, in clear conscience, publish. It was the most meaningful gesture of thanks he could make.Perhaps my family or. "Bridget kissed me and then ran out of the apartment leaving me alone and stunned. What have I done? Did I really ruin her for any other man? Damn this thing inside me, I wish it was never there. Must I suffer more than the humility of getting my dick shot off and then some monster inserted into my mind by way of a frog doctor screwing around and adding someone's monster's dick to mine? That has to be the only thing I can think of. Somehow the extra skin, or stem cells that he brought from. His only requirements were Windex and Bounty paper towels.His fetish seemed preordained since the day-long ago he uncovered a VHS copy of Michael Powell's "Peeping Tom" lamely hidden behind his dad's massive movie collection. His dad claimed to be a cinephile despite owning every Jim Varney movie ever unleashed on unsuspecting theaters. Still, Tom learned much from him, explaining why he grew up watching French new wave cinema sandwiched between Power Rangers and Pokemon each morning before. What I want to know is why Sara? Why would you do this to me? Didn’t you love me?’ I asked. ‘Of course I love you.’ Sara whimpered. ‘Then how could you carry on a relationship with him for that long? How could you let another man father your children and then tell me that they were mine? How could you do that?’ I asked. ‘John I’m sorry. I didn’t know that the children weren’t yours. I knew there was a chance that one or two of them might not be, but I always believed that they were yours, there.