“Stand up Marcia Brady. Put your hands on the desk. Now lay on top of those hands.” Sam walked her through how he wanted her to leave her hands, a... he pinned her back down to the desk. She continued to wail.“No more uncle, please. No more. I can’t handle it.” Marcia begged.Sam quickly struck her with another swing of the belt. Whack! Before she could protest again, Sam came down with a fierce one to end the punishment and to give her something to truly cry about. Crack!Uncle Sam let his adopted. He stared at his cell. Her name was still there. He erased it with a touch of his thumb.In the next hour he tried to return to what he'd been doing. It was like reaching through veils of gauze – touching and yet not touching. He reread whole paragraphs and still had no idea what he'd read. His mind was elsewhere. He imagined her getting out of her cab and walking up to the closed gate. He remembered the sway of her hips, the flow of her gestures and the confident smile on her face. She had no. More

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