Even if it had been, it was unlikely that more than a couple of people could have recognized her from this angle. It was a portrait of anger and abuse...and violence. For all that the flames lept around her body, it was obvious that the woman was not the victim. She was the perpetrator.The screen changed again to my most recent painting of Kelly. Still not a photographic portrait. Somehow, in fact, this image was less related to the woman herself and more to the dreamlike attachment to the male. I cried like that a while, imagining myself in jail, my husband finding out. What would I tell my boss at work?Officer Robinson opened the door next to me. He was smiling. I felt like throwing up. "Officer Smith is going to bring you in," he said. "I'll stay here until the wrecker comes." He looked genuinely relieved, to be rid of me.He pulled me out and put me into the back of other car, tears still streaking down my cheeks. It smelled bad back there, like someone had thrown up, and someone. Hell, once Charlie saw that tape the first day, he called a bunch of us and we were all in watching them every day. You are really impressive on the field." I don't know what to say. I had no idea that I was being filmed. Nobody ever told me about it. The coach said I could run on the track and practice my kicking and I never thought about it, but the idea that I was being secretly filmed doesn't make me very happy. Sarah, did you know about these movies?"Sarah was about to answer him when her. It struck me again - I was in Idaho! I was actually going through with this! Was it wrong? Yes, I conceded. And, later, I might regret my actions. But now I didn't care. I was living outside the rules and it tasted like freedom. The late afternoon sun streamed through a slit in the heavy drapes and caressed my body as I lay with legs bent, feet in the air, ensconced in new fur-lined rawhide boots that were as soft as moccasins. I waved them in the air a little and was surprised at the jolt.