A pink tank top covered her small but firm breasts, which I guessed were somewhere between a B and C cup. And I loved her face, it looked so cute and ...omehow innocent and intriguing at the same time. In the background I could see a part of her room. A typical teenager room: Some band posters on the wall, clothes scattered on the floor and a small untidy bed.She looked at her monitor for a second and i could see she was going to click me away, so i hurried and typed:"You: WAIT"She looked up,. Anyway she totally tried to make it on her own and we were pretty much living as cheaply as we could. We lived in a very small, one bedroom apartment in, well, in an urban environment. I really don’t want to say the city. It doesn’t matter anyway. We slept in the same bed until my 6th birthday when she bought me my own bed. I thought it was good at first but I really missed snuggling up to her at night but she said I needed to grow up and be a man, whatever that meant. That was when she started. Mere pati official kam ke silsile me bahar the, kariban do-tin mahine huye the maine apne pati ke sath nasoye huye, lekin mere ghar ke pas wali ghar me jo naukar tha wo har raat mujhe apne hawas ki sikar banata thha. Sab sone par wo aata tha aur mai uski rakhail banke rahana padhti thi, jo maine mere pahali kahani me kaha chuki hun. Ab mai meri dushari kahani jo maine mere boss ke sath kiya tha wo batane ja rahi hun. Maine apni paheli kahani me kaha na mai mere bajuwale ghar ke naukar ka. Marie Louise Emmett, dead just two weeks, lay beneath the soil by his knees. “You wife?” I asked crouching beside him. “My sister,” he said. “My little sister.” I looked at the dates again and realised the girl had only been fifteen when she died. “What happened?” “I killed her.” I lost my balance and staggered back. “I’m sorry, what?” He turned to face me and forced a weak smile. “No, I don’t mean I murdered her, but it feels like it though.” “What do you mean?” “I told my parents I couldn’t.