This is not a game. I would soon cry, within minutes, panting without breath, like a little girl, like the helpless little girl we buried today, within minutes I would cry out: “Karajan, Karajan! xnx Karajan is the only one who ever ignored me. ————————————————————————————————————————————————————-
Karajan wants me to feel responsible for our daughter turning into a cumslut. What upsets Karajan most is what they did to her after she died. The knife he is holding in his right hand punctures my throat. The sun goes down so early; the city is far away, is nothing to speak of. Karajan, my lover, finishes what is needed to my legs, binding them together like a mermaid’s fin. Even if Karajan were not watching—and he is, and were there no camera, and there is, were I to raise this window up without a sound, and creep through, if the
