Yet, although Kathleen wasn’t a witch, certainly, she was nothing like the other women in the neighborhood. The women who lived here don’t like an... woman, who wasn’t just like them. I can just picture a contingent of Sicilian Italian women marching down to her apartment, dragging her out by her long, lush hair, and making her an offer that she couldn’t refuse to accept. We never saw her leave. One day she was still there and the next day she was gone. Had we known she was moving, we all would. She fought back as the drummer pined her down she felt his hard cock pushing on her chest and at the same time she felt the guitarist unbuttoning her pants and takeing them off of her. She whimperd as the drummer sat up right on her stomach now. Her sqirming stoped abruptly when she heard a certain sound she looked up and she dreaded being right because in the second after she heard the sound she could feel the cold metal blade touching her neck. She froze then. "Now now babby whats with all. More

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