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Her mother now buried her face in the blankets trying to muffle her crying as well. She heard her fathers' grunts resume and pick up pace. She looked at the wall across the room casting her parents shadow on the wall. Her father was thrusting into her mother violently now. She could hear her mother's cries increasing, signifying the increasing abuse. Louder and louder it got. Dahlia was begging for it to end, she wanted nothing more in this world than for it to just stop right now. With another scream from her mother, she heard her father climaxing. Suddenly she felt something wet hitting her causing her to jump in fear. She looked down at her hand and saw a thick rope of white liquid laying across her knuckles as she felt another burst of hot wetness hit her cheek. She couldn't believe it. Her father had shot his come all the way over to her. Did he do it on purpose? She thought frantically. She continued staring at the cum running down her hand motionless. The cum on her cheek. People milled about everywhere, old folk, children, young lovers. Lorens smiled. He walked through the fairground, dodging the throng of people as he looked all around, humming along to the organ. He passed by a hoopla stall, a coconut shy, a puppet show stall with children cloistered around, and several high strikers. And all the while, the carousel was turning. The tune was tinkling. He took a left turn and came upon a fortune-teller’s stall. A small, old traveler woman smiled at him as he drew closer in his intention to pass by. ‘Won’t you stop here?’ she laughingly asked him, her dark eyes shining. ‘Won’t you let me tell you a thing or two?’ Lorens laughed in return as he paused by her stall. ‘I hope you’ll forgive me, Madame, but I don’t believe in such things.’ She reached to take his hand. ‘None do, Monsieur, until it is proven to them.’ Lorens gently but surely drew his hand back before she could grasp it. ‘Well, in that case, let us say that I prefer not to be told my.
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