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I put my arm round her, but she shrugged it off.“Ok,” I said, my annoyance showing, “I don’t agree that my letters were cold and cruel. So I’ll get up the copies and you can show me.”I hit the keys.“The first one was handwritten, so it’s scanned, but readable.” I explained. I displayed it and she read it.“Mum didn’t get this letter,” she said.“I sent it.” My reply was a challenge. She said nothing.“Ok,” I went on, “here are the rest. Now you tell me where I’ve been cruel and cold. Don’t hold back, I’ve clearly been very unfeeling.” The irony in my tone was not lost on her. She read in silence, and began to fidget.At length she spoke, her voice full of puzzlement. “Dad, these are not the letters Mum got.”“These are the ones I sent, Lizzy. I signed them, and I wish I could see the signatures she got. I would have emailed them but I don’t know Mum’s new email address. Am I a liar?”She turned at looked at me. “No, Dad,” she murmured, “You were never a liar. And there was no signature,. I do not wish my identity to be known, so I grab the Halloween mask I had purchased a few days prior. I recall that I do not intend on letting anyone living inside the house, except maybe the brother, but he has seen me before and may be able to point me out. I shrug and figure I will simply make a decision on the matter if the occasion arises. Next, my eyes fall across a magazine-fed, 9mm pistol. This will be great if the father should show his grimy face, or the boyfriend for that matter. My heart is pounding, but my penis is just as hard as ever; the mere thought of the coming excitement overwhelms me so. God, just thinking of those fucking breasts… I resolve myself and place the mask over my face; I know no one will be watching. With crowbar in hand and the pistol in the back of my pants, I make my way toward the door, suddenly deciding to detour toward her bedroom window: there was a slight part in the curtains. Making my way to the window, I see my emerging form: a menace in.
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