Picking the photo frame, she stood motionless and stared blankly at it.Peter came up behind her and held her hands. "I don't know either, Jenny. This ...eems really strange."Jennifer turned around and looked into Peter's eyes. Grabbing on to the photo frame more tightly, she whispered, "I'm scared, Pete. What have I done?" It'll be ok, Jenny. We'll figure it out," Peter comforted her as he guided her to sit on the bed.Peter continued, "Let's see, do we have other photos of you that we can look. Oh, and the smell of sex. That delicious musk. ** ** ** ** ** ** ** Randal had shown up with enough weed to get all of Orleans Parish stoned. A few others had drifted in and out never staying long. There were too many wilder parties than this little gathering to haunt this Halloween night. Timothy was tore-out-the-ass drunk. He had been his normal life of the party for hours, laughter grating enough to make paint peel. Joining him in that state was a half-dozen others draped in various poses. Timothy had two younger sisters who both have all of the freedoms and rights of the female population in New America. They always wore clothing and were taught at a young age how to, and were expected to, help hold Timothy in submission. They eagerly participated in disciplining Timothy when included in the process by their mother and occasionally subjected him to other forms of humiliation, as only young sibling girls can. Timothy grew up outwardly submissive to the women of the household but. He could barely walk – several badly healing broken bones had been set and mended by Anders, not to mention the dehydration, malnourishment, scrapes, bruises, and contusions his ruined clothes barely covered, but no healing could substitute for the time and energy needed for a body to really mend – and yet he’d bullheadedly insisted on following them, on fighting, and on ending his father himself, rather than leaving it to another.He had a strength to him, an inner drive that surprised her.