Do you at least know that?”
“Off of Dakota Avenue.”
The man quickly jotted it down in the folder, “there we go! Indian Sex She did not obey. He released her hair, and gently petted her as she cried. She whimpered, resting her forehead to her fishnetted knees, and quietly cried. Again, he wrote in the file, “and where do you live, Angel.”
“At home,” she responded, annoyed, “look, I’m supposed to get a phone call. His head was pounding from the alcohol the night before. “Look down,” he commanded through a clenched jaw. “I said look down, whore!” He grabbed for her, catching her by the wrist and throwing her forcefully to the floor. We don’t get that option, Sir.”
He didn’t say much else on the ride to the station. When the same suited officer returned, asking if she was now ready to cooperate, Angel swallowed hard. Now was not the time to talk. She’s just a stupid whore who doesn’t know her place.” His words were like venom, and Angel couldn’t bring herself to look at either of them. “Brynn, coffee. She watched his hand, still resting on his holstered gun.
