The landlord was so tight he wouldn’t think of putting out a paying customer. Safety didn’t do much to curb her behavior. Christmas Eve was just a...nother night and tonight’s lout was just as offensive as the rest.Had one of her neighbors looked out, they would have seen tears streaking down her aging, angry face. Decades of cheap booze and occasional side trips into psychedelic narcotics had robbed her of any beauty she might have once possessed. Deep lines creased her red, blotchy face, making. “Um, in bed?”“Go, go, get her,” she commanded.Dreading the response I knew I was going to get, I made my way back to our bedroom.The door seemed to squeak louder than ever, causing Jasmine to burrow deeper into her pillow.“Jasmine, Jasmine, you have to get up.”“Go ‘way, let me shleep, I’m tired.”“Your grandmother is here, she wants to see you, us, whatever.”That got her attention.“Granny? Granny’s here,” she said, rubbing her eyes. “What does she want?”“How the fuck should I know? I don’t even. I've decided to tell you somethingabout myself -- but I warn you, it's a long story." That's okay, I've got nothing else to do," he said as he took a sip ofhis tea."The reason I don't want to go to the police is because I am probablywanted for murder in Brazil," she said and was instantly amazed at howfar Harold could project tea out of his nose."Awark," he sputtered. "You what?" I killed a man in Brazil, a very horrible man who made my life aliving hell for five years," she said steadily. "And. ) It was a Saturday we had a lot of free time I had just finished doing a couple of laps around the playing field.When I was approached by a girl called Amanda, whom I knew well as we had been at the orphanage for some time, we were both around the same age. We were both like minded rebellious and sex mad.I had just turned eighteen. Amanda. Had turned eighteen about a week before me. We had talked about running away before but this time we decided on the spot to run away. Our thinking was.