Murder makes me feel really kinky. You remember my prostitute friend who had been murdered. Well she had been laid to rest quite some time ago now. so I decided to go to the graveyard to visit. It was a cold and windy night. I was alone I went to the graveyard and noticed something a little strange. Next to her grave was some black roses with a note attached to it. It said ‘I know who killed your freind’ and it had a phone number written on it. Angered by the display, I called the number immediately. ‘Listen do you think this is funny?’ I cussed them out on their answering machine. And went home really upset I was about to fall asleep on the couch when I heard a knock at the door. I opened it. there was a figure standing there with a gun in their hand. ‘bitch get down on your knees! they demanded. they started pistol-whipping me. don’t ever talk to me like that! they snarled ‘you’ll end up just like your friend’ I begged them to stop but they got on top of me and forced my legs open. They took advantage of me just how they did carol.
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