“Uhm, Bridget?” “Yes?” “May I go to the loo?” “To pee?” I bit my lip and tried to force down my blush. “Yes.” “No.” “Oh plea...e, Bridget!” I begged. “What if I have an accident?” “Then you’ll have to be punished. But as it looks, you’re far from unable to hold it in.” I hung my head. “When will I…” “Soon enough. But if you keep pestering me or Erin, you’ll have to wait longer. By the way, she’s waiting in the hobby room for you.” * * * * * When I opened the door to the photo room, I yelped and. And he did, she knew that. Did she love him? Was that what she'd felt. Could she love herself? But she wasn't that person anymore, was she? The Indian gods that she'd prayed to had seen to that. And he wasn't the same anymore either, that much was clear. There was a fire in him, a wild eyed southern boy look in his eyes that hadn't been there when she'd been him. Whatever exactly the old witch's gods had done, perhaps it could work out. Maybe she could be happy. Live with and love another. More

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