I reached into my bag and pulled out my short black silk gown and my lace top black hold up stockings and put them on. As I was brushing out my hair I...heard the door opening and male voices, which made my stomach do a flip.There was a knock on the bathroom door so I reached out and opened it lettingChris in, he looked me in the eyes and said "MMM babe you look good enough to eat" and with that he reached his arms around me pulling me close to him and placing his lips onto mine and kissing me. He found the control and turned it on. He hoped that something interesting had happened to draw attention away from his situation. To his dismay and horror, that wasn’t the case.Even though the shooting had happened the previous day, they were still replaying it. He turned up the volume wondering what they were saying about him.Dexter watched incredulous. He couldn’t believe the things they said about his behavior. He watched the broadcast of the shooting, fascinated by the difference in his. They'd have already missed too many birthdays, too many Christmas mornings and school pageants and Halloweens. All that a thirteen-year-old is good for is trouble, or so we thought people thought. And we knew people pretty good.My shiny face looked pretty. Not beautiful or striking or stunning. Those kids didn't get orphaned, just the pretty ones. My face was clean, scrubbed pink and smiling. I practiced smiling sometimes, like we all did. I had happy smiles and shy smiles, and even sad smiles,. It could be quickly taught, they wouldn't over-think the procedure, and all would be perfect. Unfortunately, anyone with a higher than average I.Q. would struggle. I struggled. All morning long, I struggled."Fuck, kid. Is this job too fuckin' hard for you?" my supervisor asked."It shouldn't be," I snarled. "I'm sure I can dumb myself down to handle it." Well, that better happen fuckin' soon, kid. You broke more beer than we sold today."I looked down at the floor. He was right. I was soaking in.