It still worried me that this unlikely interaction was being orchestrated by the psychopath behind this whole mad experiment. Still worries me, in fact. But the time has come to take action, and that’s what I plan to do, for better or worse. That’s all we can do, yeah? Keep moving forward and pray for the best.

I’m not sure how much of the next part to share, assuming anyone will find and read this. These are the juicy bits my eleven-year-old self never got to write into her diary dotted with Mum’s perfume. Not that the adult me has all that many entries to offer, either, truth be told. I can’t say my exploits with Barry would have done much to make Aphrodite blush. And romance seemed much like a wasted pursuit after those flames of passion fizzled out. Like an illusion, really. People confuse love with the biological need to make babies, then become stuck with someone they hardly like once the hormonal fog has cleared.

I took a cool shower after finishing that scrumptious meal. No perfume here, but there’s a body powder with a pretty smell I put to good use. Donned my terrycloth robe – lord, how my mum would kill me! – and carried the plate of rabbit scraps out onto the front porch. I set the plate on the railing and sat myself on the front steps, keeping my legs open just a bit, yeah? Enough to where I could feel the spring breeze against my bare skin that was still damp from the shower. And I became wet between the legs, too. Scared, yeah, but excited by the sensuality of my intended provocation. More than anything, I needed a protector, and now had one, and intended to lure him in. Not much for me to lose, yeah? Except my life, which I’ve about given up on anyway. Once you’ve accepted the noose, not much else matters. Might as well go out in a way that would make my inner child proud.

The others came first, and that was something I hadn’t planned for. Two of them, young ones, though it’s hard to tell with how filthy they are, but I’d say early teens. Crouched by the ground, peering between a thicket of leaves. Grunting and breathing heavily. Mewling almost. Oh God, Tracey, I’d been flashing a couple of wild boys, what has become of my life? Ha! And then one of them breaks through the brush and comes toward me. The other quickly following behind. Eyes like dinner plates. Twin peckers poking out like dowsing rods leading the way to….