Her two sticks were bare and brown, her snugged canvas drab, her brasses dull, her anchor mottled with rust. Melusine ripped strips off her under-petticoats and fashioned a pad, which she bandaged as tightly as she could over the wound, working swiftly, unperturbed by the gore. When the word “FREAK” appeared scratched in the persimmon colored paint on her locker, she knew that in some fragile young woman’s mind a war had escalated from imaginary to physical.
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This video was uploaded to warmfuckclips.com on 21-09-2024 00:06:50
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